


Rituals

by emma_and_orlando



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Fluff, Forced Marriage, M/M, Mpreg, Rituals, Smut, Sweet!Crystal, Tribes AU, Virgin!Roger, child birth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:41:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22041244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emma_and_orlando/pseuds/emma_and_orlando
Summary: To bring peace between their tribes, Roger is forced to marry Crystal.
Relationships: Chris "Crystal" Taylor/Roger Taylor
Comments: 67
Kudos: 126





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning: Roger fears that Crystal will abuse him ❤️ Mind the tags and enjoy it. (Tags will he adjusted as the story continues)

“Take a deep breath.”

Roger inhales sharply at the reminder. 

His mother smiles down at him, albeit sadly, her fine hair brushes over his forehead while she applies the face paint to his cheeks. 

The white paste clings to Rogers skin. 

He tries very hard not to settle his emotions upon his mothers thin shoulders, but he has never been quite skilled at keeping his feelings close to his heart. 

“You’re going to be okay.” She says, “It’s your duty to us all.”

Her voice wavers. Rogers breath hitches too when he hears footsteps outside of the tent.

Their preparation time will soon be over. The crushed berries are smeared over his trembling lips. The servant comes into the small opening with Rogers garment. 

His mother barely gives the girl a glance, too engaged with the finishing touches on him.

She wisps a strand of hair behind his ear and thumbs away a smudge of paste from the corner of his lip. Her hands are shaking when she examines him up and down for what might be the last time in her life. 

The look she gives him is too sad for him to bear. So his eyes trail down to his lap where his hands are neatly resting. 

“You are beautiful, you have always been beautiful. From the day you were born I knew they would want to take you away from me. You were just too precious to be hidden away and kept by me.” 

He tries a small smile.

She sighs, placing a finger under his chin and forces his eyes up to her. 

“I love you.”

Roger nods, trying very hard to blink the tears away before they spill. 

His mother has no such strength. With her sleeve she wipes her face dry and crawls over to the corner of the tent to grab the garment left by the servant.

Roger is not supposed to talk or lift a finger during his wedding day, but he still unstrings his shirt to safe his mother some time.

She replaces the deer skin tunic with the silk like robe and drapes it over his bare shoulders. The strings are a dyed leather and the length of the robe is a shade of green Roger had only ever encountered in nature rather than on fabrics. 

“You—” She covers his mouth with her hands as she takes him in.

The two of them are kneeling opposite one another in the crowded space. Around them various little ceramic pots with the cremes, pastes, spices, scents and ointments encircle them. Alongside the last of decorations for Rogers outfit. 

“You are blessed with such beauty. Now it will come to good use.”

Outside of the tend the world is growing dark and the people are becoming restless.

The time is up when a guard— voice gruff and unknown, barks through the closed tent that it is time. 

Color drains from Rogers face and his breath picks up when his mother reaches for the long piece of clothe next to his bare knees.

She murmurs a reassurances in the shell of his ear, which Roger can’t hear over the thundering pounds of his heart. The blindfold covers his sight for the most part. The tent is too dark for Roger to see anything but pitch black. 

He is guided to his feet, he can’t help but sway slightly while he is ducking through the entrance of the tent.

The noises pick up and his only lifeline is his mothers hands on his shoulder and lower back.

Outside the air is thick with smoke from the bonfire. The smell of roasted meat fills Rogers nostrils. There are many little lights strewn about, causing dots of brightness through the boundary of his blindfold. 

The people around him are buzzing with energy. Speaking in tongues Roger finds hard to understand. 

He has no idea how many people are there to attend the wedding, but he knows the Ember clan is thrice the size of Rogers’. 

“Roger?”

He tries to shift his face in the general direction of his mothers voice when they come to a sudden stop that nearly causes Rogers feet to stumble over themselves. 

Without his eyes and the forbidden use of his voice, Roger tilts his chin slightly in reply.

“We won’t forget you.” 

Her voice is thin when she lets go of his arm and suddenly he is standing all by himself.

Her name is heavy on his tongue. He so badly wants to reach out and hold her, thank her for her blessed hands and years of selfless care devoted to him, her only son.

All he can do before he is dragged away in the opposite direction is exhale heavily and keep his hands clutches to his chest.

He wishes he was dragged off fast enough to be spared of her broken sobs that follow his departure, but sadly no such mercy was given him as he is led away from her with her cries echoing through his mind.

Everything that happens is a blur after that.

Rogers senses are limited with his eyesight blocked and the deafening noise of people chatting and singing around him.

The ground under his bare feet changes from soil to the blessed tickles of grass. 

He is unsure how long they walk and how far they go, but the smoke in the air grows thicker and the people seem to become impossibly louder and closer until Roger can nearly feel their breath on his cheeks and their fingers on his bare legs while the unknown guard drags him in the direction of Rogers betrothed. 

Breathing becomes uneasy and walking too with his disorientation.

His knees nearly buckle when the pace is suddenly fastened. He has to bite his tongue to stop himself from making a noise. Even when the guards grip on his arm becomes hard enough to start bruising then and there.

It takes forever.

Rogers heart picks up to beat from the deafening drums. He knows he is close to the final destination, because the people around him close in on him and the heat from the bonfire licks at his skin. 

Every muscle in his body protests when he is brought to a sudden stop. 

A shuddering breath leaves his slightly parted lips when he is pushed down to his knees onto the grass. His hands are clutched to his chest and his head bowed forward

He is given no further instructions, but he knows similar rituals from his own tribe. 

Roger waits. 

Kneeling in the grass in front of the fire, surrounded by what he assumes is a large circle of the people from the clan. He hopes his paint does not come undone from the heat, not because he cares, but because is the last of his mothers touch he will ever have. 

They whisper about him. He can imagine they’re pointing, he hears giggles and words he wishes he didn’t know in any language.

It is not an every day occurrence after all, that two enemy tribes unite themselves with marriage. 

For as long as their history stretches and their elders could retell, the Ember and First Moon clans have always been at war with one another. 

The devastating losses of last winters plague had left the two tribes weak and vulnerable for war.

They had known only one fair way to ensure peace between them. Allowing the chiefs son of the Ember tribe to marry the most fruitful of all First Moon eligible untouched. 

Roger had been courted by many ever since coming off age, but had never felt strong about anyone’s advances.

Now, on his knees in the middle of the lions den, Roger wishes he had accepted some lowly fools proposal, rather than staying pure for the Ember chief to take. 

“So it begins.”

Roger nearly jumps when a deep voice appears right above him from the direction of the bonfire.

Heavy footsteps stop right beside him, introducing a second, but more smooth voice into the conversation. The onlookers roar at the sight of him. 

“Let’s get it over with, father.”

“As you wish, but don’t forget your patience. We must not rush through the rituals, your mother would have my head.”

“I know.” 

Roger doesn’t see the hand coming that manhandles him to sit a with his side to the bonfire and instead kneel before— what Roger assumes is the son of the chief. 

It is utterly embarrassing and Roger feels degraded as the only person on his knees and blinded. 

“Whenever you’re ready, Crystal.”

“I am.”

Roger waits in silence as the man before him rustles around. Rogers head is still bowed to the ground and his eyes are shielded, but he guesses the man removes his shoes and perhaps his socks. The ritual is similar to that of the ones in his clan, just like their language nearly aligns, which is not odd, considering their tribes ones originated from the same clan. 

What Roger does not expect is for _Crystal_ to fall to his knees too.

“Okay, I think we’re good to go.” 

Roger raises an eyebrow when two broad hands clamp around his wrists and drag them towards Crystals chest to rest his hands there. Palms flat against the bare skin.

“Excellent.” The chief says.

Roger doesn’t have time to be embarrassed about his clammy hands, before something wet is thrown over their joined hands.

He wishes they would warn him. He has to bite his tongue to keep himself from gasping.

Whatever now drips down his arm is thicker than water and smells awfully sweet.

Crystal doesn’t seem to like it either.

“Shi- come on!” He hisses, causing an eruption of chuckles from the audience.

“Take it like a man, Chris.” The chief says dryly, before proclaiming in a louder voice to the rest of the audience, “Rosemary symbolizes remembrance of the past and the faults of the lives left behind.”

The scented ointment seeps into Rogers robe. He doesn’t care. 

“The snake skin, symbolizes cleansing of the past and letting go of what once was as marriage should start pure without ill history.” The snake skin is crunched and strewn on top of Rogers and Crystals heads. A dry flake lands on Rogers nose.

It begins to itch, until Crystal accidentally or purposely blows it away. 

“A new beginning should start with a blessing in the form of a prayer.”

Roger, despite having a blindfold on, still closes his eyes. He takes a deep breath and his fingers flex against Crystals chest, where his heart is beating awfully steady.

“May the Gods bless you two for as long as you may live in a long fertile marriage with the promise of dutiful fulfillment. May Roger provide Crystal with obedience and many children. May Crystal provide Roger of protection and shelter. Amen”

“Amen.” Crystal says. The crowd echoes the words in one long hushed whisper that fills the air.

Roger repeats the word in his head three times, before he reopens his eyes. The world still black. 

“It is now that I will bind the two of you together.”

Crystal guides Rogers hands up in the air between their chests. Presenting them to the rest of the world. 

The chief bends forward and a thin string of rope is wrapped around Rogers and Crystals wrists, tying their hands together almost awkwardly if it wasn’t for Roger closing his palm and keeping absolutely still.

“With this rope I bond you two together for eternity and beyond the grave.”

Two knots are tied. Roger takes a shaky breath. 

His hands are much smaller against Crystals, much warmer too.

Crystals breath ghosts over his face. It is a cool blessing compared to the heat that radiates from the bonfire. Roger tries very hard to hold onto the small blessings and think about the peace he will ensure between the two tribes with their bond, rather than the horrors of his own life. 

“With these knots you are now tied for life.”

The chief has barely finished his sentence, before Rogers stomach drops and the crowd goes wild. 

He does everything he can not to make his nervousness be known when someone from behind him helps him and Crystal to their feet. They are pushed into the direction of what Roger assumes is Crystals tent.

It is hard to stay graceful when several people push and pull on him during their walk— during which they are tied by the wrists and he is still blindfolded.

Crystal asks them to be careful. The lack of patience in his voice worries Roger of the violence he will have to endure for the rest of his miserable life. 

Lucky for Crystal, less lucky for Roger, they come to a stop fast.

It seems as if a million hands disappear from Rogers body. Suddenly the blowing wind catches his skin and causes a burst of anxious goosebumps to litter his bare legs.

Voices, giggles, kissy noises fill the air. Rogers breath picks up when Crystal single handedly helps them into his tent.

It is large enough that neither of them have to duck.

Roger waits. 

Suddenly alone with the predator in the confined space of the den, the fear truly erupts in the deep caverns of Rogers underbelly. 

It is an unfair game they are playing. Him blind and bonded with the promise of being obedient. Crystal, currently on set to set the tone for the rest of their marriage. 

The silence is suspenseful. 

The first noise that fills the air is that of Crystal letting out a huffed exhale. 

Roger tries to quiet his shallow pants by keeping his lips only slightly parted.

“Lets get this rope undone.” The other man mumbles.

Roger stays completely still while Crystal begins to maneuver their wrists in various angles to get the knots to come undone. It is part of the ceremony to get through their first mutual struggle together. It is expected of Roger to stay still and give blind obedient trust, while Crystal provides the solution. As it is traditionally wanted in a marriage. 

It takes a few minutes.

Roger counts his breaths in his head to keep himself from hyperventilating. His toes curl into the grass beneath him. 

He wants to scream and run home. Find his mothers arms and cry on her shoulder.

Such thoughts are now foolish, because such actions would cause a raging war between their tribes instantly, which is exactly the reason why Roger would ever agree to marrying the chiefs son of the Ember clan.

“There it is— okay.”

Crystal sighs in relief when the rope slips down between them and releases their touch.

Roger sways on his feet. Dazed from the smoke and of the thick smell surrounding Crystals tent. He wishes it wasn’t bad luck to speak, or he would have asked to _please_ get on with it. Be gentle. Have mercy. Hurry. 

“Just gonna undo your thing now. Must be a bit uncomfortable, quite warm inside.” 

Crystal circles him until he is behind Roger, standing flush against him.

Rogers arms dangle awkwardly while Crystal undoes the one simple knot his mother had used to secure the blindfold behind his head.

As soon as the piece of cloth is removed from his eyes, Roger squeezes his eyes closed against the sudden flood of light blinding him. He struggles to keep his arms still to not rub away the tears prickling in the corners of his eyes. 

His tongue is too dry after hours of being unused and his muscles ache from kneeling. 

Any moment now he expects Crystal to push him in the direction of the bed. 

Behind him he can hear the other man taking off his clothes and letting them fall to the floor carelessly alongside Rogers blindfold, while Roger still rapidly blinks to adjust to the light inside the large tent.

His heart beats fast when he hears Crystal stepping forward. He can’t help that he is trembling like a leaf, no matter how hard he tries to stay still. 

“Calm down.”

Roger is proud he doesn’t flinch when a heavy hand lands on his bare shoulder, exposed by the flimsy robe he was forced to wear. 

He takes a shaky breath. Waits.

“Don’t worry, I won’t—” Crystal snorts, giving him the expected push in the direction of his cot. “Just have a seat. I’m there in a second.”

Rogers legs are heavy when he drags them towards the corner of the room.

He lowers himself down to the mattress. He lets his head bow and his hands cradle delicately in his lap while Crystal— almost completely naked, rummages around the room.

“—Long day I can imagine.” He says. Roger doesn’t feel bad for missing half the things he is mumbling about. “Have been up since bloody sunrise I tell you, for the wedding hunt. The boar we caught was a big one but I could barely keep it down. Didn’t think I’d be that nervous, but I was.” 

He returns to Roger and offers him a cup of water.

“Here.”

Roger is not allowed to use words or object to Crystal during their wedding night. 

He doesn’t think he can keep it down, not with the knots in his stomach, but without any other choice Roger takes the offered cup and brings it to his painted lips. He takes small sips so he doesn’t throw up. 

Despite the initial fear, Roger can’t help but enjoy the blissful sigh that falls from his lips when his dry throat is watered. 

“That’s what I thought.” Crystal snorts.

Roger tries not to watch him while he gulps down his own share of water. Crystal is standing over him, tall and muscular in his near nudity.

He could easily overpower Roger. With his strong arms and his tight core. Physically he is much taller and sturdy. One hand would fit right around Rogers delicate throat.

He therefor flinches when Crystal puts his empty cup down and makes a move to climb into bed with Roger.

“Hey...” He shifts back to his feet as if burned, one knee on the mattress and his hands up in the air in innocent defenselessness. “Whoa, hey. It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Roger closes his eyes tightly. 

_As if_.

“I mean it. We’re married now, I’m not going to harm my spouse.” 

The silence that follows Crystals soft voice almost makes Roger pass out. His heart pounds rapidly against his rib cage, nearly poking through his chest with its force.

Roger is shaking, limbs trembling and nearly spilling the contents of his cup over his lap.

“Look, you seem like you need a moment for yourself. I am too tired to deal with _any_ of this right now, so I’m going to sleep.” 

As if to proof his point, Crystal flops into the bed beside Roger and crawls forward until his face is hidden by the one of the pillows. 

Roger twits his body slightly to frown at his bare back. Watching his shoulder blades flex on a deep sigh. 

“Pee hole is about two tents to the left, got a fresh water bucket in the far right corner when you get thirsty.”

Roger can barely hear him through the thick fabric of his pillow.

“Please, don’t be loud. Had a long fucking day.”

“—” Roger is dumbfounded. Opens his mouth and closes it again. 

His hands are tied. He is not allowed to speak and not allowed to initiate the first touch during their wedding night.

He isn’t even allowed to undo his own robe, let alone wake Crystal up when he begins to snore profoundly loud within the next minute. 

“...”

Roger worries his bottom lip between his teeth and tastes the berries.

Despite the dawning realization that Crystal most likely _won’t_ be ravishing him tonight, Roger can’t find his heartbeat to slow down.

Neither can he find it within himself to curl up next to his snoring spouse.

At least, not until the first beams of sunlight shine through the slit of the tents entrance and Roger slumps sideways onto the bed as he passes out. 

His legs still dangling off and the empty cup of water is still clutched against his chest.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger has to face the fact that he and Crystal did not consummate the marriage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two! I really hope you liked it.

When Roger wakes up Crystal is gone.

Sleep has glued his eyelashes together. Roger blinks the crust away and pushes himself into a sitting position. The bed is empty after their wedding night and Roger is still bare, but untouched.

Overnight his makeup has dried onto his skin. Crumbs of flaking paste fall on his bare thighs. Decorating his pale flesh with with the peeling makeup. Roger blows it off. 

He drags his eyes up to scan his surroundings.

At home they made their tents out of clay and stones. Crystals' is all made of skin and fabric. In the middle of the room stands a tall wooden pole that keeps the whole construction up. He has little belongings for a chiefs son, a pile of clothes is laid out at the foot of the bed. He has a lot of weapons displayed, a bucket of water and a wooden chest. 

Roger had been forced to leave most of his clothes and items with his tribe. All he packed was a single leather bag. Mostly clothes.

He wraps the blanket on the cot around his shoulders and places his feet on the ground.

The grass tickles his toes. Roger can't smile.

He rises to his feet, unsteady, and carries himself to the water bucket close to the entrance of the tent. He keeps his eyes on the opening while he crouches over the wooden bucket.

At any moment he expects Crystal to return and finish what he was supposed to last night.

The water moistures the tightness of his throat, but doesn't do anything for the pit in his stomach. Roger cups more water between his palms to wash his face. The last of his mothers touch is scrubbed from his face. Remains of the paste are resistant and Roger has to rub his face pink before it comes off.

He then uses his index finger to scrub his teeth clean until the grouchy breath of morning has gone.

While he tends to himself he keeps an eye on the slit of the tent. 

A breeze flaps it open, revealing that it is sunny day outside and a fire is made close by. The sudden scent of roasted meat reminds Roger of his hunger. 

His stomach muscles contract around his empty stomach. The rumbling is the only noise in the tent. 

A dizzy spell nearly sends him falling head first into the bucket. He staggers to his feet and makes his way over to the bed once more. Crystal hadn't mentioned food, if Roger was allowed to wander outside, or when he would come back. 

Roger lands sideways. The cot feels heavenly underneath his aching body. 

He pulls his knees up to his chest and draws the thin woolen blanket around himself tighter, it is worn and itches, yet it is his only comfort. His hunger pulls him into a transit delusion between the realm of the wake and the world of the sleep. It is far from ideal, but it is better than waiting in anxiety for Crystals return. 

Sleep overtakes hunger. Roger lets himself be pulled into a midday drowse. 

Crystal comes back around nightfall. Roger knows this for he sirs awake when the flap of the tent is opened and his husband comes tip-toeing inside. Roger jolts upright and watches quietly with the blanket bunched around himself, feigning modesty. 

The hunt must have worn him out. Crystal shoulders are hunched while he moves around the tent.

He rids himself of his weapons and his immediate clothing. Leaving him in a loin. Roger keeps his eyes north, on his toned, bare chest.

After refreshing the water bucket, Crystal toes off his sandals and makes his way directly towards the bed.

Once more Rogers heart is racing, pumping blood through his body too fast too sudden. Heat rushes to his face and now he cannot hide behind the white makeup. When Crystal inches closer Roger lowers his eyes to his lap and bows his neck.

The blanket slips off his shoulders. He inhales sharply when Crystals hand brushes against his shoulder. Roger closes his eyes and waits for him to be pushed backward onto the cot to be taken— 

Only, it doesn't happen.

"Pardon me." Crystal coughs, before nudging Roger slightly to the side to make room for himself on the bedding. "Thanks."

With a groan Crystal falls onto his back and puts his arm over his eyes. Tired. He flips onto his side to crawl further down so that he is in no proximity of touching Roger.

Roger twists his neck to stare at him. His eyes bulge out of his skull. 

_What?_

☽ ☽ ☽

This is not how it is supposed to go.

Ever since he was a child Roger was introduced to the rituals of a wedding night. The spouses marry, say their vows, untie their unity string and then lay together. In the prospect of pregnancy. 

When he was given to Ember clan to ensure peace between their tribes, he was told to obey and let himself be bedded. 

He was not told that he had to beg for it. 

The second day after their marriage has been officiated Roger is woken up by rustling. 

If he thought he knew hunger before, today has exceeded his past suffering. He pushes himself upright to double over in agony. Cramps harsher than his monthly ones ripple through his muscles. 

Yet through the blur of his eyes he can see Crystal finishing dressing himself to leave the tent and Roger, _again_. 

"Hey." 

It is the first time Crystals dark eyes zero in on him. Panic tightens Rogers throat as soon as the sound has left his mouth. Rogers hand shoots up to cover his lips. He swallows thickly. _Fuck_. 

Crystal stops where he is halfway out the tent. He ducks his head and turns back around with a bushy raises eyebrow. "Hey?"

Roger places his feet onto the grass. The blanket wrapped around his middle for his own comfort. He looks up at Crystal from under his lashes, hoping it would win him some ground.

"Where are you going?" 

"Hunt." He elaborates, raising his wooden spear. 

"You're just leaving me here?" Roger asks. "What am I going to do all day?" 

Crystal must have sensed his desperation. He sighs and his fur covered shoulders deflate while he stares at Roger sitting on the bed. "You can go out. There's always something to do, someone to help." 

He opens the slit in the tent. Roger can hear birds singing and children's laughter. 

Yet the idea of going outside alone repulses him. As a child he was told many horror stories of the Ember clan and what they did to unsuspecting strangers. 

"I cant just go out!" He pleads with Crystal. "What if I get kidnapped. What if I get _raped_?" 

Crystal rolls his eyes far back into his head. Roger crosses his arms over his bare chest. 

If it is a stare down, Crystal is losing with his frown and long deflates sigh of defeat. "Fine." He grumbles, before he staggers out of the tent. "Wait here."

☽ ☽ ☽

 _Freddie_ , is not what Roger would expect out of a bodyguard. With his wrist flicks and coal lining to accentuate his striking eyes, but at least he is likable. 

He has a soft voice and doesn't mind leading both sides of the conversation.

After Crystal had left and Roger got dressed for the day, Freddie decided to have a walk together alongside the river bank. The sunlight irritates Rogers eyes and the hunger causes him to walk slightly bend by the waist. He is grateful when he struggles to keep up and Freddie offers him his arm. 

"Has Crystal been a bit rough on you?" He asks in a quiet voice, despite that there is nobody else around to hear them. 

Roger reckons Crystal chose Freddie to be his bodyguard because he trusts him. This means Roger cannot reveal too much of himself without it spilling to Crystal. 

He shakes his head. "No. Just haven't eaten yet." 

"Poor dear." Freddie tuts. "Come on, let's get you some, I'll show you where we make the fire."

Freddie drags them around until they are walking down the river back to the village once more. The soil under Rogers feet is moist and in other parts grainy. So far he is the only person he has met not wearing shoes, he understands why. The sand prickles between his toes and the mud sticks to the sole of his feet.

He has learned a lot about the Ember clan from the short walk. 

They have their breakfast at dawn and their dinner by nightfall. Freddie elaborates on everything they see, the children who pluck the berries, the group of women they pass collecting herbs, the tent of the elderly next to the chiefs, where they cut and dry their skins, where they storage their surpluses, where the towns people live, where the medicine woman practices.

It is not unlike what Roger remembers from home. Disguised under different names and physical appearances, their clans are closely linked.

Roger has began dragging his feet along rather walking. Freddie's concern grows.

"Almost there, dear. Think you can make it?"

"Yeah." Roger nods once— the movement proofs to be too abrupt. His eyes roll back into his head and a wave of dizziness overfalls him and sends both him and Freddie falling to the ground. 

"Whoa! Alright, so you were lying." 

Freddie tries for a smile, but Roger has sunken to his knees and his eyes won't focus.

"Oh goddess..." 

Freddie cradles Rogers shoulders to slowly lower him to lay flat on the side next to the river bank. There is no energy left in Roger to offer any help or an apology. His knees give underneath him and he is overtaken with a sense of nausea. 

"Alright, stay right there. I'll come bring you some food to get you back on your feet. Okay?" Freddie asks.

Roger attempts to project a protesting sound, but his head is pounding too hard to succeed.

"Good. Lay there."

Freddie jogs off in the direction of the aforementioned stock tent. Roger sweats on the cool grass while he waits. Afraid that at any moment he will be grabbed by the ankle and shown that the savage stories he heard of the Ember tribesmen aren't all fiction. 

Several times he attempts to sit up. Either using his elbows or legs to push himself, yet his muscles give out on him on each try.

He swallows around his tongue. It is completely dry and forgotten the taste of food.

"Good, you're still here. I hope you like berries." His neck is cradled and a handful of berries are pressed to his lips before Roger even realizes it is Freddie who is force feeding him.

Rogers cheeks are deflated with all the food. Juice dribbles down his chin. 

The rich flavor makes Roger hum appreciatively despite himself. The sugar sends a rush of energy down to his spine and fingertips. His vision clears and he can finally make out Freddie's smile. 

"From now on," He says. "When Crystal is busy you have breakfast with me."

Another handful of berries is pressed to his lips. Roger gratefully swallows them down without chewing. 

"Thank you." He mumbles. 

Freddie crouches down to pull him into a sitting position by his arms. 

The world spins around him. Roger tries to focus on the point between Freddie's eyebrows so that he doesn't vomit the berries back up. They sit tight in his throat and won't trickle down. 

"Don't look so scared, dear. You'll fit right in with us!"

Roger lets himself be manhandled until his spine is straightened. He lets his legs spread out before him whilst Freddie leans more weight on his arms. The stretch sends tingling sensations down Rogers shoulders and when the world stops spinning, his food slides down his throat. 

"How does that feel?"

"Better." Roger admits, the position elevates his nausea. Freddie's face is triumphant.

"Good, good. Now let's not make this a habit. You need to be strong and healthy. Don't you?" He smiles. Roger is grateful that he gives him another moment before he prompts Roger to his feet. The two of them continue their walk back towards the village. Freddie's arm around Rogers to take some of his weight. 

Freddie graciously shows him everything a second time and where they will meet up for breakfast tomorrow morning ' _Because Crystal will be out for another hunt, I'm afraid_ '. He shows where his own tent is located, not far from Crystals. 

"If you ever need anything, hop by. Okay?"

Roger wouldn't know under what circumstances he would need something from Freddie. 

But the older mans smile is too friendly and Roger is still lightheaded from his tumble. 

"Okay." He whispers. Tight lipped in mistrust. 

If Freddie notices his quiet hostility, he ignores it in favor of clasping Rogers arm and pulling him along. "Did I show you our sheep yet?"

"Not yet." Roger swallows down his excitement. _He loves sheep_.

"Next stop, our sheep herd!" 

☽ ☽ ☽

By the time Freddie is done showing him around town, he has to drag Roger back to Crystals tent.

He vaguely remembers being dropped face first onto the cot, but he fell asleep right after. 

In his sleep Roger cannot tell Crystal has come home. Only when he wakes up in the morning, dread fills his again empty stomach. 

Crystal is on his feet, dressed and ready for the day, washing his face over the water bucket. Roger realizes they still haven't consummated their marriage. 

Panic rises in his throat. Roger abruptly sits upright. 

"Hey." He says. Louder than the last morning. 

Crystal gets up from his crouch to face him. The tent is dark and Rogers eyesight is poor. He cannot make out the expression on his spouses strong face. 

"What's wrong?" Crystal asks.

Roger isn't naked this time, but he still pulls the blanket tightly around himself while he shakes his head. His fingertips trail over the soft wool lining. "Nothing, nothing."

Crystal nods. "Good."

"It's just that—" Roger swallows. "You can wake me up. When you come back after hunting." 

A silent pause passes between them. Crystal steadies himself on his two feet whilst Roger feels his world around him crumbling down to ash. Crystal shrugs, his eyebrows drawn together in exaggerated features. 

"Okay?"

"Okay." Roger nods. His face is hot with embarrassment. 

Crystal turns around and leaves the tent without a word. Roger falls back onto the cot with a long groan. 

☽ ☽ ☽

He has never had to do anything like this before. He hadn't expected to have to seduce his own spouse into bedding him. Roger spend his whole life rejecting proposals, promises and men. Marriage, he thought, would bring an end to the cycle of no's. 

Only to be faced with the most significant no of all. For once, directed at him.

Crystal is an odd figure. Whilst Chief sons are important members of the clan, he has spent perhaps a total of five minutes in total with Roger whilst they were both conscious. 

It is the hunting seasons, exhausting and taxing times, but his mother once said high season hunt aroused men. 

Hence why so many babies are born during spring. 

Such laws don't seem to apply to Crystal. Who has yet to touch Roger since unroping him on the wedding night. Roger feels vulnerable and helpless. His position at the tribe depends on his ability to have a child. His ability to have a child depends on Crystal, who seems to loathe him. 

"— Did you hear Liz is pregnant?"

"Liz? Thought Terry has been traveling out for two months." 

"I saw her coming out of Peters tent last night."

Today Freddie dragged him along to help a couple of woman skin the rabbits from yesterdays hunt.

The women and Freddie talk a great gossip for a small tribe. 

Roger only half listens. 

His fingers are stained pink with rabbits blood. He nearly cuts off his thumb when he drifts off in his mind. Roger gasps and drops the knife to the grass. He suckles his thumb between his lips before the blood can trickle out.

"I'm thinking we should take the knife away." Freddie grins. Roger rocks sideways when he gives him a playful nudge. He feigns a smile for Freddie behind his hand.

The four of them are sitting in a circle on the grass. The women's eyes are on him. 

They posses the skill of skinning without looking at their prey. Roger averts his eyes when they continue to drag their gazes over him. Tomorrow he will be the topic at hand.

He wonders what they might say. 

"How have you been liking your new home, Roger?" One of them asks. Her snakelike tongue pokes against her teeth with mirth.

Roger finds himself moving closer to Freddie. 

He settles on replying with a silent nod. His neck strains with stiffness. 

Her lips curl into a smile. "Lovely."

"How has our Crystal been welcoming you?" 

"Ladies!" Freddie laugh and he wraps an arm around Rogers rigid shoulder. "Inappropriate. Roger is shy." 

Such a description of himself doesn't seem applicable, but Roger makes no move to protest. He doesn't want to be disliked by his future people, but distaste or distrust of a foreign enemy tribesmen is only to be expected. 

He hadn't noticed he was gripping the rabbits half skinned body so hard until his nails began to dig into its slippery body. He drops it into his lap. Eyes hard. 

The women aren't paying attention to him any longer. One of them mentions someone Roger does not know. The other and Freddie giggle. 

The unease doesn't leave Rogers body. 

They might tolerate him now, but the people will grow suspicious if he isn't with child before the end of the season. Which would risk war upon his people. 

Fear feeds his confidence. He straightens his spine and reaches once more for his knife.

Roger is determined. Today he will talk to Crystal. 

☽ ☽ ☽

"You're still up?" 

The first beams of sunlight peak through the tent opening when Crystal finally returns home from the hunt. 

Roger is barely able to keep his eyes open. He suspects Crystal might have planned this all along, if the smile tugging on the corner of his lip has anything to do with it.

"You stayed out late." He yawns. 

He glares up at Crystal through his bleary vision. Darkness fusses around the edges of his consciousness. If Crystal doesn't climb on top of him soon, Roger will he done for it and his efforts of staying up have been for nothing. 

Crystal moves around the tent, removing his clothing and abandoning his uncleaned weapons. 

He sits down on the foot of the bed to unclasp his sandals. He spares Roger a glance over his shoulder. 

"Go to sleep." 

Roger eyes have already closed. "You go to sleep." 

Crystal snorts and after he discards his sandals on the floor, he turns over to throw the blanket over Rogers pliant body. Roger doesn't remember anything else. When he wakes up the next morning and Crystal is already gone again.

"Fuck."

☽ ☽ ☽

"We need to talk." 

It had taken some pestering to get Freddie to budge on showing Roger where the chiefs are having their weekly get-together. Crystal is there too, in the large tent located next to the fire-pit. When Roger came stomping into the room with his arms crossed over his chest. 

The elderly were highly amused when Roger _requested_ for Crystal to step outside.

"Is it urgent now because we were in the middle of—?" 

"Yes." Roger fumes. His fingers curl into fists by his sides. "It's been nearly a week since our wedding and I haven't been bedded yet." 

Crystals response to Rogers submissive act melting away is a small grin. "We share a bed every day." 

Roger clenches his jaw. "Is this amusing to you? I left my village to have children with you and secure peace between our tribes." He breathes heavily. Crystal has a talent for keeping his cool. 

"I've been busy." 

Roger scoffs and pushes away from him. "No more hiding." He demands. "It needs to get done." 

He turns his back on his spouse and he walks off in the direction of the berry fields to find Freddie again. His shoulders are tense with anger, he doesn't care if it's unattractive or not.

Behind him, he swears he can hear Crystal chuckle. 

☽ ☽ ☽

It isn't particularly comfortable to tell Freddie about his struggles, but he is the only person Roger can remotely trust.

Even if he tells on him. Roger already confronted Crystal on the topic.

"It's been nearly a week. How long is it normal to wait?" He asks, dropping his head in his hands with a groan.

Freddie doesn't say anything for a moment. He lays his palm between Rogers shoulder blades.

"I think Crystal is just trying to be decent, darling."

"Hm?" Roger asks without looking up at his somewhat forced-yet-kind-companion. 

"Well," Freddie drawls, while the twirls a strand of Rogers hair between his fingers. "Perhaps he thinks you're not comfortable." 

"Of course. We just met." Roger mumbles. 

"If you want to hurry things along, assure Crystal you're confident and ready. That might put his mind at ease." 

He lifts his face from his hands and looks sideways at Freddie. They sit by a small fire close to their tents but away from the other people. Freddie’s had brought them here when Roger asked to talk to him in private. 

"You think so?" He asks. 

Freddie bops his head in confidence. "There are two types of men, darling. Ones that fuck everything with a hole and ones in who can only get it up after a bond has built." 

If Roger had more experience with men he might have challenged Freddie's theory out loud. 

The gleam in Freddie's eyes tells him not to.

"When he comes home tonight, seduce him, show him that you want it. He'll want it too."

Freddie deliberately lowers his voice and blinks slowly. He lets his fingers trail down Rogers arm, goosebumps burst free under the skin. Roger shivers and watches Freddie's eyes darken on a playful smile. 

"You see what I'm doing?"

Roger nods sharply. "Yes."

"Good!" The moment is broken when Freddie clasps his hands together with a brilliant smile. "Because Crystal is now coming home."

"What?"

Roger looks up to see his spouse indeed ducking to get into their shared tent. Unbothered not noticing to Freddie and Roger chatting about him a couple of meters away. 

He stares after him. Freddie is the one who had to push him into action. 

"Go go go!" He shrieks.

Roger lets himself be pulled to his feet and rushes towards the tent. He gives Freddie a wave over his shoulder, even though his heart is racing in his throat. 

Crystal has barely settled inside when Roger follows him with a breathless "Hi."

His eyes land on Crystal standing over the bed. His shoulders are tense and there are dark circles under his eyes. It looks like he tried to wash himself but he is still covered in grime and sweat. He is in the middle of removing his leather protection over his chest and groin. 

"Hm." Is all he says in return.

Rogers chest heaves on every breath he takes. The nervous energy hasn't left him since confronting Crystal outside of the elders tent that afternoon. 

He made a deal with Roger. Dead on his feet or not.

"Did you have a good day?" Roger persists, he takes a step in Crystals direction. Crystal strategically takes two steps to the side. 

In response, he shrugs. 

"Catch many animals? Doing your duties, feeding your tribe?" He thinks of Freddie and his low alluring voice. He hopes the nervous wisp of his words only exist in his mind. 

He leans his body against Crystals while the older man washes his face by the water bucket. 

He cups the water between his cupped hands he then rubs it over his reddened face. Washing off the dirt of the day. 

Roger watches him in quiet fascination. 

"Please, I beg of you," Crystal says without sounding anything but exhausted. "Back off." 

It has been five days since their wedding night. Backing down now would be pointless. Roger continues to mimic Freddie, with a sly smile he lets his fingertips dance over Crystals arm. Finally he gets the hunter to turn around and look at him. 

His undefined attention sends pulses down Rogers spine. He bats his eyelashes seductively. "I love a dutiful man." 

Crystals eyes follow Rogers fingers. Irritation drips off his voice. 

"What the hell are you doing?" 

He is tight and high wounded. Roger takes a shallow breath to steady both of them. He decides not to remove his hand. He pulls himself in closer until their bodies stand flush against each other. Roger lowers his eyes to Crystals bare chest. He trails his hands down south, all the way to his abs where his loin covers his manhood. 

Rogers heart is racing and his fingers are shaking when he trails further down to press his palm against Crystal—

Rogers wrist is yanked away before he could get his hands on him. He breath is knocked out of him.

Crystals jaw is set when he fumes down at Roger, eyes hard. 

"Don't you fucking touch me without my consent." His tone low and threatening in Rogers red ears. 

"I wasn't—" 

"No!" Roger shrinks his neck in his shoulders when Crystals voice booms against the walls. "Who the fuck do you think you are? Touching me without my permission could cost you your hand you know?" 

Roger stomps his foot on the floor of the tent. Which is grass and makes no satisfying sound. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" He spits back. "You have a cock don't you?" 

He yanks his hand free from Crystals grip. The skin burns and he suspects it will bruise. 

Roger narrows his eyes. 

"Back at home they would cut your cock off for harming your spouse," Crystal swallows thickly at the words. Rogers nostrils flare. "But that wouldn't be a problem for you. I'm starting to believe you don't have one."

The words have barely left his lips when Crystal pushes him back. Roger stumbles back onto the mattress. 

"You're ridiculous." Crystal reaches around Roger to grab a pillow. Roger hates that he flinches. "I'm sleeping on the floor." 

Crystal drops the pillow on the floor and crouches down. Roger throws his arms in the air. 

"You're so fucking stubborn!" 

"That's ironic." Crystal lays down and faces away from Roger without another word. 

The cold shoulder is a loud and clear message.

Roger is physically shaking with anger. Yet Crystal doesn't seem to care for his rigid breathing and grinding teeth. If there is one thing that Roger doesn't like is being ignored. He has always thrived on attention and conversation.

With a long sigh he rolls over and curls up in a tight ball, arms wrapped around his knees. 

"Fine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave me a comment if you liked it and if you want more❤️


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a lot of pressure for Crystal and Roger to consummate the marriage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. First of all.
> 
> **Sorry**
> 
> This took me months. I couldn’t find the words. But I’m back and excited about the story again. Thank you for bearing with me. Thank you ❤️

A shrill of fear runs down Crystals spine when he wakes up in an empty tent. Since the dawn of his weddings day Crystal has accustomed to being woken up to the warmth of a body beside his own. 

Roger is gone. 

Granted, last night Crystal had slept on the floor in favor of the cot next to his infuriating spouse. 

Exhaustion remains tugging on the bags under his eyes. He had not found rest in sleep tonight. Their fight has left an unease under Crystals skin. Last night Roger grew impatient and had driven him up a wall when Crystal was too poor in patience to keep his irritation under the surface. 

Crystal pushes himself to his elbows. One look around the autumn-chilled room confirms he is alone.

The slit in the tent entrance flaps open on a harsher blow of wind, revealing the world still dark outside. Selfishly Crystal wishes to crawl onto his cot and sleep for however many hours he has to spare before the morning hunt. His second, more diplomatic instincts tell him he too had gone too far last night and some part of the escalation had been his fault. 

Despite the cold Crystal, doesn't bother with shoes or adequate clothes. Roger is unfamiliar to the area and wouldn't stray from the village.

Crystal leaves the tent with only a fur cloak draped over his muscled shoulders. 

Outside the cold bites at his toes and exposed face. The grass under his bare soles is dewy and a heavy mist has fallen over the village, fitting the tightness in Crystals chest. 

Last nights fire has not finished smoking and its ash burns his nostrils. Crystal stalks over to the dark figure hunched by the pit. 

"Have you seen Roger?"

"Roger?"

Old Sage sits in her usual spot by the fireside. Most sane people have not departed from their cots now, she is not one of them. Her intoxicated character is famous in the village, but she is wise beyond the other elders in experience and age. Crystal bends slightly in respect despite his ranking not demanding it. 

"My spouse. We had an, uh, argument."

Her brow wrinkles further at what should have been an explanation. Her hands tighten around the liquor bottle in her hands. 

Crystal clears his throat. "Blond? Not the tallest, walks around barefoot?" At her blank stare Crystal grows impatient. "You were at the wedding."

"You should not squabble with your spouse. Such thing is indecent." 

He too could be the village wisest if wisdom meant sharing obvious statements. 

Crystal nods. Affirming her advice before he straightens his spine to get on with his search for Roger away from the local drunks.

"And Crystal," 

"Yes?"

"First Moon clans men cast moon prayer over water." 

Oh.

Crystal hunches to the river bank without drawing more attention to his cloaked self. If the other males of the tribe saw him sneaking around asking for his spouses forgiveness, there would be no end to the teasing. If his father found it, there would be questions concerning his integrity. 

Relief washes over him when he finds Roger indeed by the waterside. Initially he considered himself worries for practical reasons when he woke up with Roger missing from the tent, but now he understands the knot in his stomach as guilt. 

Decades of hunting have taught him the art of blending in the shadow of the trees. He wishes not to disturb Roger in his time-apart. Crystal watches him in silence hands curled around his cloak and toes digging into the soil under hid feet. 

Roger is a peculiar person. Both fascinating and irritating in equal bouts. 

His insistence on sex comes accompanied with a disdain of Crystals touch, gentle or not. Bedsharing has been the only activity of Crystals life that didn't concern duty, only that of finding pleasure. The people he had taken to bed before marrying Roger had not come to his tent with a intention of child bearing or ensuring peace between tribes. 

This has been different from past hookups. Crystal found Rogers uncomfortableness remarkably unattractive for a face and body so beauteous.

He is easy on the eye, that much is certain. Even now Roger is fair in the pale moonlight.

His eyes glimmer with unshed tears as he prays. Hands to his knees and forehead on the damp riverside ground. His lips move in quiet chanting increasing in volume as the prayer moves into a song of sorrow. 

Though the Ember and First Moon tribe have been at war for many generations, once they had been one. Rogers hymn is similar to Ember strains. 

His voice is soft. Speaking in the ancient tongues elders use while deciphering old scriptures. For his ritual Roger had gathered a number of pebbles to create a circle of prayer from scratch. 

Chants to the Moon Goddess bring Crystal in sober mindset. 

Roger has casted his life away when he had come to the Ember tribe with only one mission, which is to bear a child. 

Crystal had found Rogers company uneasy, but nowhere near as uneasy Roger found his. 

Now he is on his knees begging the Moon for her guidance and wisdom. She is a giving Godess from what Crystal had heard. He suspects maybe it was her who drew him from his sleep in search for Roger. 

The shadows will not hide him forever. Crystal watches Roger finish his prayer somewhat abruptly when his voice gives out.

Rogers untrained eyes would be too poor to see him from there, considering himself alone, Roger pushes himself to his knees and wipes his face from fallen tears. He leaves the stone made prayer circle where it is, regarding it is bad luck to destroy it after immediate use. Crystal moves back into the tree lines before Roger goes back into the village center again. He doesn't wish for Roger to know such an intimate moment had been watched. 

Crystal is swift on his feet and finds himself back in his tent before Roger has made it home.

He considers slipping in the bed to wait for Roger, but then thinks better of it. 

Last night they had shun each others trust. Crystal would have no place on Rogers bedside before they reconciled. He suspects it won't be a comfortable settlement with the hefty duty balanced upon Rogers frail shoulders. But Crystal will try harder to be of use.

Roger returns to the tent with heavy footsteps. 

Crystals eyes fall shut in a false slumber when he hears the flap of the tent fall back in place. Roger makes his way to cot almost immediately after bending over the water bucket to cleanse his face and hands. 

His gaze falls heavy on Crystal before he steps over his sleeping form to get onto the bed. 

For a moment Crystal anticipates he might be casting a curse over him under his breath, but he is proven wrong when cold fingers curl around the cloak Crystal had forgotten to remove. Roger tugs on the fabric until it is draped over Crystals shoulders more evenly and the fur is pulled up to his chin. The entire time Crystal focuses on breathing in the same sleep heavy pattern.

Roger only returns to his bed when Crystal feigns a content sigh. 

He pops his eyes open when rustling on the cot subsides and Rogers breath has evened out. He stares into the darkness and feels heat creep up his neck where Rogers cold fingers had graced the skin. 

☽ ☽ ☽

Crystal had bedded many people in his relatively short life. Some tall, some slender, brunettes, redheads, witches, warriors and bohemians. He had never had a type and never been picky. 

When his father announced the arranged marriage, Crystal had allowed his standards to be lowered further. 

Duty came before pleasure after all. 

When he finally met Roger, after a season of arrangements and negotiation the marriage had been settled, Crystal had been pleasantly surprised to find him rich in beauty.

Vain as the First Moon tribespeople are, they did not bargain with the hand of their chiefs offspring, but with those most prosperous in the tribe. 

Roger possesses a fairness unseen in the Ember tribe. With his wide innocent eyes and wicked smile that only lit up when he let his guard down, Rogers cheekbones are nearly carved in his round shaped face. He is nothing short of perfection in the eyes of any man. Not a freckle is out of place or eyelash is ruffled. 

Crystal finds himself too enchanted to leave for his work duties. 

The first traces of daylight cast onto the tent and Rogers eyes are still closed in sleep.

Last nights fight has left him pale and tense, but in sleep Roger is pliant and warm. Crystal runs his knuckle over the flushed tilt of his cheek to feel the heat underneath. He tries not to breathe through his nose and tousle Rogers hair. Rogers fairness settles a rift of butterflies in Crystal. He is unsure whether these feelings are blooming due to the sympathy he felt to Rogers sorrow prayer or because he unashamedly gets to take in the beauty that is before him for the first time. 

"What are you doing?" Roger still has his eyes closed. Crystal stills his finger on Rogers face. 

Heat creeps up his own cheeks. Crystal jumps to his feet before he witnesses Roger opening his eyes.

"Stay there." 

"What?"

"Stay there." Crystal insists. 

He puts on his armor and weapons in record speed, leaving Roger alone in the tent with a confused furrow between his brows.

☽ ☽ ☽

Crystal is still panting when he returns to their tent less as fast as his feet could carry him. He is late for the morning hunt, but for now his mind is elsewhere. 

"I brought you something." 

He finds Roger on the cot where he had ordered him to stay with blanket is draped over his bare shoulders and the same confused scrunch of his nose.

Crystals heart beats in his throat and no more words make its way out. 

In his left hand he still holds the bloody arrow used to shoot his prey. On the bed he drops the creature, causing Roger to shriek and huddle away from it. 

"What in the name of— Why is there a dead pigeon on my bed?!" 

Crystal can't believe what he is hearing 

"It's a peace offering."

Roger gapes. "It's dead."

Crystal's first instinct is to jump in the defense in a 'take it or leave it' stance. To stop himself from falling into uncommunicative habits he reminds himself he is married to Roger and his muttered prayers to the Moon Goddess last night. 

After a deep breath and clasping his hands around the bloody arrow behind his back, Crystal clears his throat. 

"Would you like a living creature to settle our squabble?" 

The birds neck flops to the side, revealing the wound that killed him. Roger visibly represses a grimace. "I suppose this will do."

"Are you sure?" 

At the apprehension in the air, Roger nods with a sense of confidence and reaches out to cradle the dead pigeon without ruffling its pearly feathers. Crystal had found it singing on the souther border of the tribes grounds. A worthy gift for a respected high chief sons spouse.

"Yes." Roger says. "Yes it's— you're not angry?" 

Crystal fiddles with the arrow in his hands behind his back. "I should have communicated my intentions better." 

"You—?"

"I do not wish to lie with you, even for duty's sake, unless you are comfortable to do so. Your obvious disdain is not easily overlooked and I don't believe forcing myself on you would make matters better, as we are married for life." 

If possible Roger is left even more dumbfounded. His brows are creased and his lips slightly parted while pigeon blood drips onto his lap. 

Crystal had not asked a question in his statement. He lets the words settle between them. 

He points at the entrance of the tent with a half smile. "I have to go to the hunt before they leave without me."

Not expecting Roger to reply, Crystal leaves the arrow on the pile of weapons he procrastinated cleaning and reaches for a fresh spear to use. He ducks to leave the tent in silence, only for a hasted hopeful voice to stop him in tracks. 

"See you tonight?" Roger asks.

Crystal twists his neck, savoring the hesitant smile on his spouses face. 

"Yeah," He nods. "See you tonight."

☽ ☽ ☽

The hunt this late in the year is a matter of chance and luck. Animals die in starvation or leave for the South. By the end of a day filled with aimless chasing and tried patience, the huntsmen come home with aching muscles and drooping eyes. 

Crystal comes back home after dawn. A plate of now cold food had been saved for him.

Within minutes he is licking it clean and forgoes staying with the remaining men to get drunk. He had promised this morning to see Roger at night. 

He knows it is late by the time he makes it to the tent, but he is still disappointed to find Roger had already fallen asleep. 

The last bouts of energy leave Crystal. His shoulders sag when he removes his sweat soaked leather armor. He leaves them pooling by his feet, too tired to give it another thought. He cleans his face and armpits with water before staggering his way to the bed. Each muscle in his leg is sore and overdone with work. 

He leans with knee on the bed and takes a moment to appreciate the sight before diving under the covers. 

Rogers face is mushed against the pillow in unguarded comfort. His eyes flutter behind his lids as if in a vivid dream. Still Crystal thinks he looks beautiful splayed out over both sides of the bed with his legs spread and arms tucked under his head. On the pillow once owned solely by Crystal, sits a pouch with strawberries.

After a savory dinner the sweetened juice of the berries come as a treat. 

He knows Roger left it there for him. Even though it is not a white feathered pigeon, strawberries are hard to come by in the late autumn. 

Impressed and happy with tonight, he gently moves Roger to the side to make room for himself. 

He settles under the blanket. A groan forces its way out of his throat when his muscles relax.

Crystals limbs fall limp on the cot. He closes his eyes and feels the darkness of sleep cast over his overused mind. Roger rolls over and presses himself against Crystals side. His long leg slides between Crystals and his arm drapes over his middle. 

With a sigh Crystal pulls the fur blanket over both their shivering bodies. He is too sore and drained to think about the goosebumps that burst over his skin when Roger breathes on his neck. 

☽ ☽ ☽

Crystal wakes up early the next morning so he won't miss breakfast like he had yesterday. His stomach growls loud and clear while he clasps his armor in place. 

Roger wakes up at the abrupt sound. Crystal turns to watch him stretch his arms over his head and rub the remains of sleep out of his bleary eyes. 

A moment of silence passes between them. Crystal isn't a man of many words, but Roger is.

"Did you get the berries?"

"Yes." 

Roger blinks expectingly. Crystal raises an eyebrow. 

"Did you like the berries?"

_Ah_. "Yes." 

"Do you want to have breakfast together before your, uh hunt," Rogers feet land onto the grass his pale legs come out from under the blanket and Crystals gaze lingers without his consent. When his eyes reach Rogers, he finds him smiling tentatively. "It will be swift?" 

Like the berries, this is another of Rogers peace offerings. 

Roger masks his uncertainty well, but Crystal has a keen sense for tension in the air similar to alertness of panicked prey.

If Roger could accept his dove, Crystal will accept his. 

He drops his weapon onto the floor with a nod. 

"Yes." 

Roger is on his feet and dressed in less than a minute. Crystal amusedly watches him comb his fingers through his dark copper hair. Flattening the storm. He is dressed in a light tunic with detailing at the edged. Crystal had never had a sense of style, wearing mostly quilts and leather armor for practical reasons, but even he knows it is flattering on Roger. 

Crystal goes to the fire to collect them both a platter of bread and cheese.

There are many eyes on him and assumptions to be made when he returns to his tent with two dishes instead of having his meal with the rest of the huntsmen and early awoken tribesmen. 

He finds Roger on the floor, legs crossed and hair relatively tamed. He sits hands him his plate and sits opposite of him. 

"Will you say the prayer?" Roger prompts. 

Breakfast chants have not been common curtesy in the Ember tribe for several decades, but Crystal remembers his grandmothers insistence on traditional meal prayers and the gratitude she would enforce on him. Not every year was a prosperous harvest. She had seen many seasons of famine and death. 

Putting his bread on the wooden plate again, Crystal nods. "Alright." He shuts his eyes after watching Roger shut his.

He lays his hands flat on the grass, palms to the dirt. 

Crystal slips into ancient tongue with little difficulty. It is spoken at official religious ceremonies and during nameday blessings. Those will fall under his duties one day as a chiefs son. 

" _Blessed be the hands reaping the lands and the graces of the Gods who fertilized our soil and livestock. Blessed be the health of the cooks, blessed be my family and finally blessed be my dear spouse_."

" _Blessed be the great-hearted sacred Goddess_." Roger adds, which Crystal had never heard his grandmother say. 

"Right."

He reopens his eyes to find Roger in the same leant over position as he. 

His hands are flat on the grass and there is a grin tugging on the corners of his lips. Crystal drags his plate to his chest with a smile. 

"What?"

"You have an accent." 

"Do I?" The cheese melts on his tongue and the bread breaks into airy pieced with ease. Crystal never admitted it to his grandmother, but a meal prayer always did make him appreciate his food more. 

"Yes," Roger says with breas puffed cheeks. "You have to roll your R's and annunciate your K's." 

"The sacred Goddess knows what I mean."

"Not if you call her the _masquer goodness_ she won't." 

Crystal is certain he should feel insulted, but he is too occupied with the uncontrollable laughter bubbling up his throat, causing him to choke on his half swallowed piece of bread. 

Roger laughs too, he gets to his knees to clasp Crystals back and help him choke up the food before his throat closes around it. 

"Please don't die."

"Never." Crystal snorts. Of course the first time Roger makes him laugh he nearly chokes himself to death. 

It only takes two hefty coughs and another slap on his back for the bread to come up and Crystal to catch the first gulp of air. "Fuck. That's— fuck." 

He is pleased that Roger doesn't remove his hand even when Crystal no longer needs assistance. 

"That was very charming." Roger laughs.

The air between them is light and Crystals vision fuzzes with the spell of dizziness that hits him each time he dwells too far into Rogers eyes. 

"Am I wooing you yet?" 

Roger hums and leans in to brush a crumb from the corner of Crystals mouth. 

Instead of sitting up Roger lifts his gaze. "Maybe." 

"Maybe?" 

"Yeah," Roger smiles. "Maybe." 

They finish their breakfast without further incident. Sitting cross legged with their knees touching until Crystal realizes he is running late for the hunt. Again.

The last piece of bread is shoved between his lips. He waves Roger goodbye with tue arm he isn't holding his bow with.

The last thing Crystal hears is laughter ringing in the tent and Roger gathering their dishes. 

Crystal arrives to the edge of the forest late and red in the face. 

His huntingmates wolf whistle at his appearance. 

"Crystal getting cozy for winter."

"Didn't want to crawl out of bed." And "Pretty lips around his cock." 

"Shut up." He utters, ignoring the stifling heat that crawls up his neck while he leads the snickering men into the forest. Their weapons raised. 

☽ ☽ ☽

Winter season edges near and the deer and boar are making themselves sparse. Crystal and the other huntsmen come home early when the hunt proofs pointless and arrive in time for dinner.

He finds Roger sitting alone by the fire on one of the surrounding branches. He is dressed in a red golden threaded cloak with his empty plate on his lap. 

"Where's Freddie?"

Roger jumps when Crystal flops down next to him. "Crystal? What are you doing here?" 

"You want me to leave?" He teases. Roger pushes his arm but is careful not to make Crystal drop his dinner. From the corner of his eye he can see his father, the chief head, watching. He had been quietly concerned, not unlike Roger, about consummating the marriage and producing a heir. Last winter had been disastrous, many died. Crystal knows his father believes the people could do with some hope and prosperity. 

"Freddie is flirting with the candle maker. Tim."

"Jim. Crystal corrects. Adding, "Typical, he's had his eye on him for a while now." 

Their gazes fall on the two huddled figures between the other tribespeople having their roasted boar and vegetables. It is new moon ascension eve and the dancers are preparing the area for the ceremonial dance while the brewers hand the bowl of brew around the circle. Freddie hands the bowl to Jim after taking a long generous sip. When Jim has the brew, Freddie keeps his hands cupped over Jims to help carrying the weighted goblet. Jim smiles behind the rim of the drink finding Freddie's attempts more than amusing. 

Roger sighs. "I wish I was any good at that." 

Crystal glances down at his spouse and raises a brow. 

"What?" 

He gestures in Freddie and Jims direction with a pout. "Flirting 'n stuff." 

Crystal has been poor in the arts of dalliance most of his life, he appreciated Rogers endearing attempts even before their fight. "At least you try. I'm too straightforward. Too literal. It doesn't do anyone good." 

A pause passes between them. 

"I don't mind." Roger eventually says. 

While Crystal suspects Roger is merely being polite, he humors him with boar scuffed between his teeth. 

"You don't?"

"No— I mean. I'm not happy not getting my way, it is beyond infuriating that you won't do as I say, but, at least you're clear. As you should be, being the chiefs son and all that."

"I didn't intend to infuriate you." Crystal knocks his knee against Rogers. Rogers lips curl at the corners. 

"Well..."

"I'm sorry, I mean— oh."

The bowl of brewed hard drink is handed to Roger by one of the farmers. She bows her head for him a respectful. Roger takes the hefty goblet with a muttered moon blessing, Crystal suppresses a grin at the farmers bewildered blush. 

"Did you have brews in your tribe?" 

Roger tips the bowl back and gulps down the burning alcohol that glides down his throat. He wipes his face with the back of his sleeve and hands it over to Crystal. 

"We had alcohol during religious ceremonies and ascending moons, but yours is sweeter."

"Do you like it?"

"Yes." Roger says, fingers dancing over his thighs. Crystal finishes with his share of brew and tips it back for Roger again. Roger parts his lips and waits for the cold liquor to settle in his belly. When Crystal thinks Roger has had enough to get himself pleasantly buzzed, he gives it to the woman beside him who stretches her arms out for the bowl. 

Crystal coughs through the burn in his throat. 

Rogers hand falls on his knee, he is flushed from the fire heat and his eyes sparkle with mirth. 

The dancers have gathered around the bonfire for the ceremonial steps in their cloth skirts and bare feet. The drums are positioned amongst the crowd to evenly spread the music when they begin playing nightfall falls and the moon casts light over the village. Practiced palms slap on the dried animal skin stretched over the wooden forms. The tribespeople raise their hands to clap on the rhythm and the dancers begin their routine led by the music.

Their slender bodies circle around the fire, hands raised to the moon and eyes closed in trust.

The flames of the fire cast far above the length of their bodies. In their colorful skirts they blend with the burning vapor. Their hips round the length of their bodies and their heels dig into the sand as they orbit the fire in spins around themselves. When the drummers pick up their pace the dancers must match in speed. Droplets of sweat are cast into the fire and the air becomes dense with heavy breathing. It never fails to send goosebumps down Crystals neck when the chanting of mixed prayers begins.

The people on the branches struggle to be still.

Hands clasped and eyes closed in prayer, they cast gratitude for the newly ascended moon. 

" _The divine and great-hearted. Sacred in her generous giving. Reign over the most powerful for that hear me pray._ " 

Rogers feet tap to the rhythm of the infectious beat. He too has his eyes closed and chin pointed to his lap while he rocks forth and back on his knees. 

Shadows of his eyelashes cast a curtain over his brew flustered face. Rogers lips barely part as he whispers to the Goddess. Crystal is too distracted looking at him to do more than a half hearted blessing under his breath. His vision becomes blurry from the alcohol and dizzying dance. 

This goes on for long until the drummers have began to hum and use the common tongue to chant their Goddesses name in praise.

That is also when the panting dancers reach for the crowd to enrich the fire dancing pit.

Roger too is pulled to his feet by a near chested woman in a flaming skirt. He hadn't finished his prayer, but had no chance to protest before both his hands are held, stretched apart by two of the dancers and his feet are stumbled into action to keep up with the dance around the fire.

Crystal sees Freddie burst into laughter when he spots Roger in the unfortunate volunteers.

His attempts to keep up cease when the alcohol takes a hold. Roger stumbles over his feet and nearly topples into the fire twice if it weren't for the hands guiding him through the spinning dance. The air is filled with laughter for everyone is unwieldy drunk and the dancers become flustered with time. Roger has passed Crystal at least 14 times and each time he does he grows more cross-eyed with every spin. Sweat has broken out on his forehead and a grin has spread across his pink face. 

It is good for the Ember tribespeople to see Roger like this. Human and as one of them. 

"Look at that." 

Roger is dragged around the fire one last time before the circle dissolves and he is dropped in Crystals lap. A rush of air leaves him on impact, to keep Roger from sliding off he wraps his arms around his waist. 

"Sorry." Roger smiles widely while he balances himself on Crystals shoulder. "S' a lot less wild back home."

"You looked good up there." 

"Don't lie to me." Roger laughs in the crook of Crystals neck. This close Crystal smells the sweat on his skin and honey in his hair. "I was horrible."

"You were not." 

Roger hums. 

The ceremonial dancing is dismantled, but people still move to the rhythm of the unprevailing drums. Roger grows heavier by the minute and Crystal decides it is best to leave for their tent. "Come on." He says, pulling Roger along to his feet. 

While his knees still wobble under his weight Roger can hold his liquor. 

"Maybe I don't want to leave yet." 

"You're welcome to stay." Crystal glances sideways when Roger wraps an arm around his middle. They walk hip to hip. Despite the floor coming up slightly higher to meet him with each step, Crystal considers himself not too drunk either. "Don't let me stop you."

"What's the party without you?" 

"Dunno." Crystal shrugs. "But there'll be more brew and singing if you like."

"I don't need more brew." 

Roger stumbles into the tent first and Crystal crawls after him. He finds Roger splayed out on his back rubbing his cheek against the grass. Crystal pulls him towards the cot by his ankle and only stops when Rogers laughter bubbles into hearted giggles. He crouches to pull Roger onto the unmade bed, he knows Roger is capable of handling himself, but to cradle him in his arms and splay him over the cot is a pleasure Crystal cannot pass. 

Roger bunches his hands in Crystals shirt. Preventing him from moving.

Their lips are very close together, he doesn't miss Rogers eyes dropping to his mouth for a brief second. 

His cheeks are rosy with arousal and flamed sparkles dance in his eyes under Crystals undivided attention. He exhales sharply and pulls on Crystals shirt. 

"Are you sleeping with me tonight?" Roger asks, with a coy smile. 

While it is a tempting request, Roger is an arousing image underneath him and the flame of the fire has Crystals skin boiling with possibility, but the brew in his blood would ruin the experience. He blows a hair away from Rogers forehead and forcibly rolls Roger over to make room for himself.

Crystal flops in bed with him and pulls his spouse against him once settled. 

"Not tonight." He says. 

Rogers chest deep groan only subsides when Crystal presses his lips to the crown of his golden head. He lets his hands dance over the skin under Rogers bunched up gown. His thumb traces the curved bone of his slender hip and he realizes there is no underwear. Roger melts in his touch, bare leg sliding between Crystals. He perches his chin on Crystals chest, warm blue eyes beg up at him. 

"Then when?"

"Soon." Crystal promises. At Rogers disbelieving frown, he grins. "Soon." 

☽ ☽ ☽

Roger is becoming impatient once more and Crystal does not want to wait for them to reach a boiling point, _again._

It is only a couple of days later when Crystal comes home from another early morning hunt. Only this time he had asked Freddie to keep Roger busy for a little while longer than usual. If Roger wishes to be mated, Crystal has to prepare the ritual set up like they were on their original wedding night. That had been weeks in the past, when the elders of the tribe had readied his tent for him. 

Now the duty falls upon his own shoulders. 

Crystal enters the tent feeling both heavy and too light, fresh from the hunt. 

First he washes his hands and gets out of his hunting armor. Forgoing cleaning his weapons, he crouches over his wooden chest. 

From inside he gathers the ointment, the red spices in the corked jar, the candles and lastly the ember grail. 

Outside his tent he had readied a small unnoticeable fire to heat up the ointment. The whole time he is wary for Rogers presence, but before his spouse arrives, the ointment is warm and he stirs it with the spices until the mixture is a blood red color. 

He kills the fire and evidence of it and carries the bowl of his red ointment inside the tent. The sharp aroma overwhelms the air and Crystals nerves in combinations with the scent 

With clammy palms he drags the blankets off the cot and into the grass floor. He surrounds the spot with the candles a safe distance away in a circle. The wax cancels out the spices and Crystal is slowly gaining his bearings when light footsteps come closer to the tent. 

Indeed a moment later Roger comes crawling into the open slit, pausing only when he sees Crystal hunched over their makeshift bed. 

"You're early." He says. "I didn't see you return from the hunt."

Crystal takes place on the edge of the bed when he is sure everything is in place. He pads the space beside him, coercing Roger to come closer and sit too. An anticipative smile curls the corners of Rogers lips, he follows direction with an almost drunken timidity. As he sits his knee bumps into Crystals and his hands rest calmly over his lap. His eyes go from roaming the room to staring back at him. 

"Are we?" Roger asks finally. 

Arousal pools in the pit of his abdomen at the sudden anticipation that _yes, they are doing this_ , Crystal gives a curt nod and lays his heavy palm on Rogers thigh. "Only if you want to."

"I want to." He breathes. "It's time."

Crystal closes his eyes and presses himself against Roger more firmly. He slides his hand under his tunic and it is Roger who wraps an arm around his neck to close their lips in a kiss. 

Rogers lips are even softer than they look. Crystal is quick to grab a hold of Rogers hip to pull him flush against him. 

There is a hurry in Rogers movements. His fingers kneads into Crystals shoulder and soon he throws his leg over his waist. Crystal allows Roger to slide into his lap. When he pushes his tongue against Crystals lips he puts his foot down and pulls back from Rogers face slightly.

Instantly Rogers eyes fly open and he is met with dark dilated pupils. 

"What's it now?" He asks. To which Crystal smiles in a fondness swelling in his chest. 

Crystal keeps a strong hold of his slender hip. Roger is a comfortable weight in his lap and he lets the moment sit between them. He feels the heat of the candles on his skin and sees their effect also on the rosy color of Rogers cheeks. He is beautiful and eager in return if not inexperienced, if Crystal reads the signs well. 

Finally he drops his other hand onto Rogers other hip until he is holding him still. 

"We've got time." 

Rogers hands are soft to touch. He cradles Crystals chin and tips it up to take a good kook at him in exchange. "Haven't we wasted weeks already." He says lightly, somehow trying to deflect the attention from his anxiety. Crystal bites back a smile when Rogers thumb brushes his bottom lip. 

Pretending to bite down on the digit, Crystal untangles Rogers leg from his hip and sits him down on the cot.

Before Roger can start his protests, Crystal moves from the bed to the floor, he makes sure to avoid all candles and not rustle the bedding too much while he settles down to kneel before Roger inside the circle of fire.

Roger has grown silent once more. His fingers grip the edge of the cot and his toes have curled in the grass. 

The nerves drip off his hunches shoulders. The truth of his virginity comes into play now and Crystal must continue to remind himself that Roger is untouched, despite his insistence. 

"What now?"

"Come here." Crystal gestures towards the bedding on the floor. He waits for Roger to comply and slink to the floor in a crouch. There he sits down huddled with his knees to his chest, gone is the bravado when they are on the same eye level. "Have you heard of this ritual before?"

He shakes his head causing his blond tresses to fall over his eyes. 

Without moving an inch from his spot, Crystal explains to Roger how he has to lay back in front of him. After a shaky breath, Roger follows direction.

The ritual is as old as time and has been carefully instructed to him many times before the wedding night ensuring he wouldn't forget and have their union start out with bad prosperity. Crystal watches Roger get comfortable on the sheets with his knees slightly bend and feet on the floor. He stares at Crystal, waiting for further instruction.

Crystal guides Rogers legs further apart so he can fit his body between them. 

The silence that's fallen over the tent continues to stretch and strengthen in tension. Roger is breathing shallowly through his parted lips and his eyes have a far away glaze. As if he is allowing himself to be detached. 

The aim is to have Roger here with him in the present, whatever the aroma of the candles might otherwise suggest.

With his hands still on Rogers knees, he leans forward to look at his face. 

"How are you feeling?" 

"I'm alright." Roger swallows thickly around the lie.

"You're not." Crystal calmly concludes. "It's fine if you're not." 

He can see the well of impatience overflow in Rogers eyes before he can get another word out. The beautiful man underneath him leans onto his elbows to lift his head off the bedding. Their faces are close again and Crystal can feel Rogers breath against his own. The air that grows between them is dizzying. The heat of the candles excites him. Rogers eyes are hooded and focused on his. 

"Duty calls, Crystal. There is no time to waste anymore." 

"That's where you're wrong." Crystal sighs. "Don't we have a lifetime to spend together?"

His exasperation is met with a similar sigh from Roger.

"Yes, but I am expected to be with child before winter. It _is_ winter."

"No it's not."

"There isn't a leaf left on the trees, Chris!" 

"And this," Crystal says, lowering his voice significantly to let Roger know he'd been yelling. "This is exactly why we aren't to hurry."

Roger forces his fascial muscles to relax. "I don't know what you mean."

"I _mean_ you're so tense." 

Roger is tense as a bow when Crystal pushes him down onto the bedding once more. He goes willingly with a clench of the jaw. Rigged breathing. Hard eye contact. 

Crystal keeps the one hand on Rogers chest. He flattens it his palm over his heart to listen to the rapid beating.

Slightly confused, a moment later Roger places a hand over Crystals. 

Crystal allows him to intertwine their fingers until they're clenched in mutual desperation. There is a task at hand, but more importantly Rogers comfort which is constantly being compromised by forces Crystal doesn't see. Sure people expect a baby, but now? So soon? 

He sees no reason for the hurry. Not other than to produce a heir and to secure the peace between their tribes with their successful union. 

Most of that pressure is on Roger. If they don't reproduce it will be assumed Roger is the one infertile.

"I am aware that we should have tried on the wedding night, but I felt like you weren't ready."

"I was—" 

Roger frowns when Crystal shuts him up with a finger to his lips. His eyes flicker down and then up again. 

"You weren't ready, so I wasn't either. I fear that there's nothing to it for you other than your duty to give our tribe an heir." 

"What's wrong with duty?" Roger murmurs with Crystals finger still against his lips. "Can you stop doing that?"

Crystal does not remove his finger at first, not before leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of Rogers mouth. Roger sighs into the kiss and turns his head so Crystals finger slides away and their lips can meet again. 

This time Roger doesn't hurry to deepen their kiss. He lets his lips linger against Crystals in a tender touch. When the softness becomes nearly too much, Crystal pecks Rogers bottom lip between his own and drags his lip out to press another tender kiss against it. 

Crystal crawls up into Rogers lap with one knee on either side of his waist.

His chest keeps Roger still underneath him. A surging need to protect Roger falls over Crystal. He shields him with his body, proud and tall stand his shoulders. Roger is receptive and calm. He parts his lips, allowing Crystal to lick into his mouth in an almost primal need to taste and explore what he never had. 

Roger lays back with an exhale. His hands slide down from Crystals shoulders to his upper arms to give his muscles a trying squeeze. When Crystal slides his tongue against Rogers, he clutches the muscles under his palm. 

Relaxed and calm, Crystal finds himself leaning into the rhythm of their bodies. The slack heat of Rogers mouth is exhilarating. It becomes easy for Crystal to lean in further and force Rogers legs to spread wide over Crystals thighs. He sucks Rogers tongue into his own mouth, 

Roger holds back a moan. 

"Crystal." 

He sighs when Crystal detaches their lips, only to trail lingering kisses down his chin and throat. The brush of his lips sends skittering flutters down Rogers body, whose chest heaves on every kiss. 

Crystal can't help the smug smile that pulls on his lips when he sucks a mark at the base of Rogers neck where his shoulder and neck meet and Rogers breath hitches unmistakably. 

Rogers hands grasp onto Crystals arms to keep him from pulling away. "Chris..." He begs. 

"Hm." 

He gives Rogers sides a squeeze with his broad hands and smooths his thumbs over the smooth skin underneath his shirt, while his lips nibble down Rogers collarbone. 

Crystal must have found a spot, because Rogers jolts and tightens his legs around Crystals waist with a comfortable sigh. Crystal rocks forward in the motion and feels Rogers hardness against his own. It is another sign of Rogers changed mindset. The lack of fear is arousing for the both of them. 

The heat of Rogers body and the taste of his skin under his lips has hardened Crystals in his underwear. 

He knows it's time.

His lips reach Rogers bare shoulder and they pause there on the smooth flawless skin.

Beneath him, Roger comes to himself and runs his fingers through Crystals hair to get them out of his face. Crystal lifts his head up to look at him. With his face turned up, Roger allows his hand to smooth down Crystals cheek in quiet admiration.

With his dazed eyes and heaving chest, Roger is a sight to behold himself. 

"What are you doing?" He asks, eventually when the tension of the silence thickens between them. 

Crystal thinks before he answers that question, it is a tricky and formed to mask Rogers insecurity. It isn't that Crystal is doing something Roger isn't enjoying, Roger simply doesn't understand why he is kissing every inch of skin his lips can attach themselves to. 

"Sex is meant for pleasure." Crystal says in a low tone. "Pleasure is to feel good. Didn't that feel good?"

Roger blinks up owlishly, "Yes?"

"Yes? Or _yes_?"

His adams apple bops on a heavy swallow. " _Yes_." Roger admits. "Yes that felt nice."

"For this to work it needs to feel nice. That's what they taught me." Crystal sits up on his knees and guides Rogers upper body up with him, to pry his shirt over his head. 

Roger lifts up his arms and allows Crystals assistance in undressing himself.

As soon as his upper body is bare Roger reaches for Crystal to strip him too. 

Together without moving from their spot they free each other out of their respective clothes. However little they might be wearing. 

There is no hurry, Crystal emphasizes that by fluttering kisses on Rogers shoulder. The skin underneath his lips is warm and taut. Crystal hums and pulls Rogers body closer against his, so that they embrace chest to chest and their groins align in the most intimate way. 

Crystal rolls his hips against Rogers and Roger clumsily tries to rock back. Crystal is somewhat tempted to pin him down and let Crystal do the work, but Roger is allowed just as much exploration as he is. 

Roger wraps his arms around Crystals shoulders and in their grinding dance he places open mouthed kisses along the length of Crystals neck, 

"Crystal." He sighs. Cheeks flushed with the heat as Crystal rolls his hips against his own, keeping him close with his arms around his waist. "Chris. What else did they teach you?" 

On a particularly hard grind, Roger head falls back with an appreciative moan. 

Crystal ducks in to suckle a mark under Rogers chin. The skin between his lips is tender to touch and bruises easily as the skin is delicate. Roger pinches Crystals shoulder when he thinks it's enough and Crystal swears he hears him murmur, "Possessive." Beneath his breath.

He licks the bruising skin as an apology when he is satisfied with his handy work and nibbles down the main vein up his throat until his lips have reached Rogers again. 

"They taught me the ancient ritual for fertility." Crystal whispers against his skin between kisses. "With pleasure, comes heightened fertility." 

"They never taught me that." Roger exposes more of his neck in eagerness. 

His grip on Crystal has become iron strong. Crystal knows to make his move now while he has Roger pliant and completely under his spell of arousal. 

While allowing Roger to continue to grind his cock against him, Crystal pulls away to travel his kisses down to Rogers now exposed chest one more, but only after pushing Roger flat onto the cushions again. He brushes his lips down Rogers sternum and his lips finds their way around his erect nipple. 

Roger hisses and gasps when Crystal wraps his lips around it. The affirmative noises make Crystal even more eager to suckle down on the sensitive bud. 

There aren't many sensations Crystal hasn't felt in the past. Unlike Roger he has bedded many partners. But none of them looked as alluring as Roger does now, with his legs far spread and his eyes fluttered shut in pleasure. 

"Please," He begs for what he doesn't understand. "Please, Crystal." 

Crystal instead of pulling away, wets his fingertips in his mouth, before using them to tweak Rogers other nipple. Gently and slow as he rolls the nip between his fingers. Roger shudders, face twisting and hips frantically grinding up Crystals abs for leverage.

It is a struggle not to grin while his tongue flicks Rogers nipple. 

A noise that resembles somewhat of a keen leaves Rogers sinful mouth. None of his bravado is left resorted. He takes the pleasure and doesn't do anything to stop Crystal from giving it to him.

"That's nice. Oh Chris, that feels good." He sighs dreamily, fingers tangling in the small hairs at the back of Crystals neck. "I-is this part of the ritual?" 

Crystal could lie and say yes, but the ritual itself doesn't require this exact foreplay, just general foreplay.

He decides not to answer and instead remove his lips from nipple to kiss down his stomach.

In a shiver Roger sucks in his breath. Crystal lets his fingers dance over Rogers ribs, while his nose brushes his stomach and his tongue dips into the navel. Roger slides his foot against Crystals thigh and he sings in pleasure, gasps and quiet well earned moans. 

This—, Crystal thinks to himself as he noses his way down Rogers treasure trail, this indeed is where the ritual begins.

He reaches the base of Rogers cock and the soft gathering of pubic hair around it.

Above him, Roger goes very still. 

Crystal doesn't have to look at him to tell he is growing nervous again, but this time it is a giddy kind of nerves, of excitement and adventure.

Without looking up, Crystal hooks his hands underneath Rogers knees to put them in the appropriate position, bend and generously spread with his feet flat on the bedding.

"To bless your fertility and to bless mine. May the God and the Goddess bless us with a child."

"Are there rules?" Roger asks suddenly. "Must I keep silent? Should I pray with you? What am I required to do?"

"Lay there and look pretty." Crystal can't resist and presses a lingering kiss to the base of Rogers erection without minding the hairs that tickle his face. "If you feel the need to make any noise or call upon the Gods, be my guest."

"Be your— what are you doing?" 

Roger moans long and low when Crystal wraps his lips around the head of his cock.

He keeps the pressure to a minimum and simply starts by suckling on the very tip. Tongue lapping at the sensitive nerves there.

Rogers legs try to clamp closed around him, but Crystal keeps them spread open. 

"Chris, that— fuck. Warn me next time." 

He flicks his eyes up to see Roger lay there, lax with pleasure, chest rising and falling rapidly. 

"Is this the ritual?" He asks, "Is this it? Because that's better than any before. Fuck. Oh Goddess." He rolls his hips trying to make Crystal take more of him than he is now. "Take me. Take me please."

"Mhmm."

The idea behind the ancient ritual is to warm up a spouse and their reproductive system prior to the intercourse. 

It is an intimate act of patience and the upmost care.

Crystal relaxes his throat and allows himself to deepen Rogers cock inside. Sliding it against his warm inner walls. Roger is moaning helplessly. His fingers are curled into the bedding and his head is thrown back in pleasure. 

The sounds he makes go straight to Crystal's cock. It stands tall and ignored between his legs while he pleasures Rogers own.

He is halfway down Rogers length when he pulls back up to slurp at the head again.

Then when he has most of Rogers cock coated in saliva, he takes him all the way down until his nose is buried in his pubes and Rogers legs tremble with the excitement.

This is certainly warming him up. The tent is filled with free falling moans and heat from the burning candles.

Rogers legs are heavy and hot. Crystal knows that this will leave Roger wet and ready for him when the time comes. To make sure he is, Crystal runs his finger down from Rogers leg to his inner thigh. Roger shivers, but the warm lips around his cock are too distracting.

Crystal marvels down Rogers body undisturbed, until he reaches the curve of his ass.

There he circles his entrance where slick is already gathering. The arousing feeling is beyond Crystals realm of control. He can't wait any longer and slides his finger gently into Rogers entrance.

Crystal keeps his lips around Rogers cock. Keep him distracted while he prods his finger all the way into his velvet heat. 

Roger is soaking with pleasure. Even now, his eyes are firmly shut and his mouth hangs open on a long drawn out moan. He couldn't grip the sheets beneath him harder as his knuckles are turning white, while his cheeks are an alluring shade of pink. Roger is undeniably a virgin, albeit an eager one. 

Crystal slides his finger in all the way to the knuckle. He then hooks it up, trying to find Rogers pleasure spot to stimulate him from the inside.

He knows he is successful when his finger glides across a soft curve and Roger cries out in surprise.

"What is that?" He gasps. And he lays back, chuckling sideways into the pillow in shock. "What was that?"

"That's you." 

Crystal says the one second he detaches himself from Rogers erection. 

He brushes his fingertip back over the gland and allows himself to watch Rogers face dissolve in pleasure. 

It is a sight to behold. Having Roger before him, so eager and willingly and trusting with his legs spread wide and his eyes closed. When Crystal keeps stimulating his insides, Roger starts to rock back on his finger. Crystal decides he needs another to fill him up nicely, not necessarily for the stretch, with how slick he is Crystal doubts Roger will need any of this to take his cock, but it is important to him that Roger feels everything that is to feel. He wants Roger to understand the limitless possibilities that his own body offers. 

"I wish you could see yourself." Crystal mutters into the intoxicating air of the room. "You're sinful."

"Shut up." Roger chuckles breathlessly. "Whose fault is that?"

Crystal crooks his fingers again. Roger keens.

"I don't suppose you mean me?" He grins and God, if he wasn't so terribly turned on himself, his bravado would have been more believable. 

He continues to gently pump his fingers into Roger. Roger watches him from between his lashes. His grip on the sheets loosens and eventually he finds his hands free to travel up Crystals thighs again.

"What do you think you're doing?" Crystal asks without any heat.

Roger is trying to stay focused through his haze of pleasure. He licks his lips.

"I want to touch you. Can I?" He asks.

Crystal swallows thickly. As soon as he gives a nod of approval, Rogers hand wraps around the base of Crystals cock, more tenderly than he would have held himself. 

Rogers eyes flicker between Crystals cock and his face to check if he is doing well.

Crystal gives him an approving grunt and thrusts himself unto Rogers arm. "Come on." He says. "You can do something. It's okay."

Roger is still being dazed with pleasure himself when he begins to pump Crystals erection in his hand. He moves his cupped hand up and down in a slow tender fashion. Like he wants it to last.

Despite Rogers best efforts to take it slow, it's hard for Crystal to contain himself. A thick beat of pre-cum glistens at the tip. Roger brushes it away with his thumb.

"Doesn't it feel nice?" Roger asks kindly, as if he is not holding Crystals rock hard cock in his hand. 

"Yes." Crystal grunts. "It does."

A smile tugs on Rogers lips and he allows himself to firm his hold and speed up somewhat. "I'm glad. Wouldn't want you to feel left out." 

Crystal shuts him up with a kiss. It feels odd being bend over like this with Rogers hands around him and Crystals fingers buried inside Roger. 

He wants to say as much but he is too busy giving Roger a taste of his own cock. The thick musky scent still on Crystals lips from sucking him. "I think I might not last if we continue." Crystal murmurs against his lips eventually. 

Roger smiles at the thought and he pauses his ministrations. "Well well, Crystal. What do you suggest we do next."

Crystal also stops moving his fingers, but he keeps them inside where they belong. 

He is half bend over Roger and their bodies are tangled into one mess. Roger has a glazed over look in his pretty eyes. Crystal knows he is succeeded in preparing Roger for what is to come.

"I can't wait to have you." He says.

"Then don't." Roger insists and pulls Crystal closer by his middle with his legs. "Do it. Have me." 

"I will." He promises and kisses the corner of Rogers mouth. "But first I must prepare you to bless our reproductive health and your womb." 

Roger blinks, somewhat confused. "Sorry?"

"Just let me. I must." Crystal murmurs.

He waits for Rogers nod of approval before Crystal gently removes his fingers from Rogers insides so he can reach for the bowl of red paste he had put to the side for now.

Roger watches him word through hooded eyes. He lays still on his back like Crystal directs him to.

Crystal coats the fingers of both hands with the substance from the bowl over which he had already casted a blessing for fertility. One that he is happy not to repeat to Roger. 

He rests his fingertips on each side of Rogers stomach just above the inside of his hip bones. 

He draws a have circle mirrored on each side. Somewhat curved. 

Roger sucks in his stomach at the heat of the spices. Crystal shushes him. "The God must know the intentions of our coupling."

"And the Goddess." Roger supplies in a soft tone.

Crystal hums and with another coat of red herbs he traces the curved lines on Rogers stomach again. The blood red contrasts the pale color of his skin. 

Crystal closes his eyes and continues to trace the same marks with his fingers. The marks are located above the same curves of Rogers womb. He chants his prayer, asking the God and Goddess above to bless their unity with offspring. To allow Roger to fall pregnant before they start to ask questions, the Gods must be pleased first. So Crystal prays and begs while redrawing Rogers womb in the hopes of channeling the blessing of the Gods.

He hears Roger say his own prayers under his breath, like he wishes nor to distract Richard, which is hard considering he is nude and willing between his legs. 

"Bless the unity between my spouse and I. Bless our coupling with success. Grace us with a child." 

Crystal repeats himself and the ritual is only over when he scrapes at the bottom of the bowl of red paste. He reopens his eyes and sees Rogers stomach is a mess of red drawings mostly on the sides with messes of splatters in the middle. Roger is panting and his eyes are misty. "Crystal." He says, also saying without any words that he wants it and he wants it now. 

With his hands still tainted by the spices, he takes a hold of Rogers thighs and spreads them wide for Crystal to fit between them.

His cock is an aching mess between his legs and despite being far from a virgin, he doesn't think he will last this time. 

"I must hurry." He comments breathlessly. 

Roger looks up at him with those dewy eyes and desperation. His fingers curl into the bedding again and he nods. Legs fallen open. A layer of sweat has gathered on his skin, in the crook of his neck and the curved cupids bow of his lips. And he breathes heavily, long and deep inhales to keep himself grounded. 

"Yes." He says eventually. Rock hard himself. "I'm unsure how long I can last." 

"Don't worry. Me neither."

Crystal brackets Rogers legs further apart with his own thighs. He leans forward and singlehandedly angles his cock against Rogers entrance. More slick has leaked out and Crystal irresistibly rubs his head against the swollen opening. 

Roger is still breathing with a conscious effort. He looks at Crystal with an impatient furrow of his brow.

"Are you teasing me?" He asks when his hole flutters around air while Crystal grinds himself against Roger. "Haven't you teased me enough?" 

Their faces are a mere inch apart. Crystal chuckles and nuzzles Rogers cheek.

"You ought to get used to the feeling." 

"I am." Roger promises. "I am ready. I really am this time." 

Crystal detects no lies in his tone or uncertainty in his eyes.

The next time he rubs his cock against Roger he stills and allows the head to breech him.

Rogers breath hitches. It is somewhat larger than Crystals fingers and the stretch is a new sensation, but with how incredibly wet he is it cannot hurt. Crystal stills inside of him, not even halfway in, it is torturous in the most delicious way. He mouths at Rogers cheek and jaw. He waits for Roger to adjust to the intrusion. 

Eventually Roger wraps his arms around Crystals neck and rolls his hips down. 

"More." He insists.

The heat that's engulfing Crystal is making it very hard not to thrust all the way inside at once and lose his composure, but Roger is new to this and Crystal forces himself to slowly move the rest of the way inside. Feeling the paste stick to his own stomach and Rogers cock between their bellies. 

He bottoms out with a grunt. Roger gives his neck a squeeze, before he too relaxes back against the pillows. 

"That's not too bad." He whispers.

Crystal nods. He isn't sure if he can trust his voice now, not with how good he is feeling and how tight and warm Roger is around his length. 

Roger runs his hand through Crystals long hair and tangles his fingers in to force Crystal to look up. 

He must have caught the wild look in Crystals eye, because a teasing smile breaks out across his face. "You can have me." He says. "Move. I know you want to. It's alright, I trust you."

Crystal couldn't have asked for more permission than that.

He steadies his knees on the floor and pulls back halfway before pushing back to the tilt. 

Roger gasps. "Goddess." Crystal knows he's found his pleasure spot again.

Crystal rolls his hips again, to make sure he brushes over the spot again. And again. And again, until Crystal has set a steady rhythm with his hips and thrusts into Roger with every muscles in his legs straining to keep it up. He also has to keep a hold of Rogers thighs to keep him from scooting away because of the powerful thrusts.

"Crystal. Chris." Roger moans.

He holds onto Crystals neck for dear life. His nails will cause marks on the tender skin, but it adds to the sensation of complete ecstasy. 

Witu each thrust his cock a grunt forces itself past Crystals lips. The noises he makes seem to turn Roger on as much as Rogers sounds of pleasure turn Crystal on. He can't help himself anymore and thrusts into Roger faster to chase both their orgasms to beat witness to what Roger may look like when overwhelmed with pleasure.

Crystals skin prickles and his brain short-circuits the closer he gets to his inevitable end.

Roger clenches his neck and arches his hips up to signal to Crystal he wants to go faster. Crystal turns his head and nips at Rogers bottom lip teasingly while he quickens his pace, fucking into Roger fast and hard, hearing the obscene wet noises their love-making causes echo through their tent is a bigger turn on. He caresses Rogers thighs and gives them a squeeze even though they have grown heavy by now. 

Roger rakes his fingers through Crystals sweaty hair, while their bodies move together un a relentless heap of limbs and sweat.

"I'm close." He coos against Crystals lips. "I'm so close."

Crystal presses open mouthed kisses against Rogers. They aren't kissing as much as breathing the same air sharing the same saliva like two brainless cave people. 

Crystal has lost all sense of rhythm. He slams his hips against Rogers, in an effort to pound his cock faster and bury himself in deeper.

The noises Roger makes are a tangled mess between moans and sobs the closer they get.

Crystal tries to waste no more time. He hitches Rogers left thigh up higher so Crystal can let go of his right thigh and fuck him deeper from a new angle and reach between them to jerk Roger to his orgasm. 

"Chris. Crystal, fill me up. Please. I'm so close. I want it."

Crystal jerks him off faster. He is so close himself that his toes curl into the bedding and his cock pulses where it's inside of Roger. "I got you." He grunts. "I got you." 

Rogers cock is red and drooling cum in Crystals hand. Only when he gives it the slightest twist in time with a viscously hard thrust, Roger is tipped over the edge with a cry of pleasure.

When his orgasm hits, he tightens around Crystal so hard that Crystal cums in shattering shockwaves. 

"Roger!" He groans, he buries himself as deep as he can while he empties his load inside of him.

Roger is moaning into his ear, still shuddering through his own orgasm while Crystal fucks him through it. Together they come to a stuttering halt, with Rogers arms limply hanging around Crystals neck and Crystal holding Rogers legs apart to stay inside with his slowly deflating cock. 

They are both breathless and dazed from their orgasm. Rogers chest heaves beneath his, but Crystal can't get himself to lift his head from Rogers warm inviting neck. 

"We did it." Roger gasps for air. 

The smile in his voice is obvious. Crystal doesn't have to look up to imagine the satisfaction casted across his flushed face. 

A gentle hand brushes Crystals hair away from his face. Crystal leans into the touch and closes his eyes to forget about all the other sticky sensations on and around his body. 

He nods, swallowing thickly. "We did it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if you liked it❤️ Thank you for sticking with me


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger and Crystal grow closer as their physical relationship becomes more satisfying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok. First of all, sorry for the kate update again. I promise to finish this before 2022. 
> 
> And you may have noticed there are 6 instead of 5 chapters planned now, simply because I want more time with these boys🥰❤️
> 
> Sorry for the long wait and please enjoy

Roger wakes up from the tingling sensation that someone is watching him. 

He stirs around on the soft bedding, tangled around his feet, left discarded from last night. He does not need it to remain warm during the nights, not even with the breath of winter blowing over the clan. 

He rises to Crystal propped up on his elbow beside him, already dressed and wide awake, stroking his hand down Roger's bare leg. 

The touch stirs sparks of arousal to Roger's underbelly. 

The awareness of sexual desires is still a foreign feeling for him. He knew he would be sharing his bed with his spouse once they had tied the knot. He had not truly known how it would be. 

Some spouses demand sex on the whim, while others only couple to procreate. What he had never considered was a third category, a spouse eager to please _him_ , something nobody from his tribe had prepared him for before the dreaded wedding. 

He counts himself lucky with his spouse and thinks the Goddess every day for the blessing she sure had granted him for his many anxious prayers prior to his sendoff.

"I know you are awake." Comes the gruff but now familiar voice of his loved one.

Roger remains still to relish for another selfish moment in the sensation of Crystal's rough palm gliding over his thigh. 

He is still tender between his legs from last nights activities. It is a memory fogged with hypersensitivity and fogged desired, they had discarded the woollen blankets before it could get dirtied by their sweat and odours and had remained in each other's arms for the rest of the night rather than fetch it off the floor. 

Last night, like most nights hand been significant. 

Roger is starting to lose counts on how many days he wakes up with his ear to Crystal's chest and his body aching pleasantly from being thoroughly used. By the Goddess, he will thank her in his prayers tonight _again_ for creating the human form with so much pleasure to derive from. 

The soothing nature of the touch almost lulls Roger back into the realm of dreams. It is only when Crystal's fingers start pressing down with more insistence that he fully wakes up from his drowse.

"I'm still sore." He says honestly without opening his eyes. 

"It's not that." Crystal's voice is always a husk this early in the morning. 

Roger lets his hand rest on Crystal's chest to not only hear but to feel the rumble of his voice. 

He finally gathers the energy to peer up at his spouse, watching the reflection of his dishevelled self through the glassy browns of Crystal's intense eyes. 

"Just wanted to hold you for a little longer, before the hunt." 

He runs his hand meaningfully down Rogers's stomach and keeps it there. His tone is rich, as are his expectations, although Roger cannot blame him for his lack of knowledge on reproduction. It was hardly spoken of in most tribes or clans.

"It's only been a week. We can't tell if—"

"I know I know, I'm just touching. That's allowed, right?" He all but growls. In between the sex, Roger tends to mind their bickering a lot less. He's sated most of the time, for most of the day, because they make the most of the time they have together. 

Who would have known that good sex could make your day a little easier and your spouse a little more bearable? 

Roger bites back a smirk and nods, although it's a lazy, subtle head movement that rustles his hair across the pillow beneath him. "Yes, it's allowed." 

"Thank you."

And they remain like that for a few moments longer, until the other huntsmen are getting restless right outside their tent after gearing up for the hunt, while waiting for their enchanted leader. Their noises and impatient whistling is all done on purpose to get the attention of the couple, too often too distracted with each other to stick to Crystal's usual time schedule. 

Crystal rolls his eyes at their childish antics, but Roger is already rolling away from him to let him up. Face mashing into the pillow to block the men out. "You must leave before they wake up the whole bloody tribe."

"What's the point of being chiefs-son if I can't sleep in until I so please." Crystal grumbles as he plants his bare feet on the floor. 

He's physically shivering at the cold. Displeased at it too, but at least he reaches down to toss the blanket over Roger before he climbs off the bed to dress into his leather and fur attire. 

"Because they know it is not sleep that retains you in our tent." Roger likes this part of his day. He gets to roll onto his side, snuggle into the warm spot Crystal's body has left behind on the cot and watch his spouse arm himself to do his duty as future-chief. 

His body is muscular and lean, every curve and dip of his body has at least once been touched by Roger now and watching the joints and muscles flex still stits the arousal of the memories up at him.

Crystal sees him squirm on the cot and smiles knowingly as he finally puts his fur-coated dressing over his head to protect himself from the early morning frost. 

"It will be winter soon. By that time you wish you could escape me for a hunt, every now and them."

"Don't be silly." Crystal says. "Winter will bring prosperity." 

He bends over the bed to kiss Roger on the forehead, his cold lips lingering on the smooth skin, before he ducks out the tent to face the day.

☽ ☽ ☽

In all honesty, it isn't just the sex that's been better. 

The fact that they are actually spending time together now has made them realize that they are surprisingly compatible. 

Roger would have said that they shouldn't have doubted the Goddess' plan, but Crystal theorizes that it was luck that mingled their fates together. They do enjoy the same music, get along with the same people and laugh at the same things. 

Crystal almost thinks that had their marriage not been arranged, they would have clicked and perhaps tied the knot themselves one day.

He is eager to see Roger after a hunt, his hunting mates make fun of him for doing so. When they return to camp they each clasp his back and wolf-whistle as he breaks from the group. He drops his weapons in his haste to make his way over to fire pit where the roasted pig is all but bones at this rate.

Roger is seated around the fire alone. He welcomes him by the dead tree branch where he's left a spot for him and has secured a plate piled with food for Crystal. 

"I hope you're hungry."

"Starving." Crystal says and promptly sits down on the empty spot beside him and kisses Roger hard on the mouth. 

He isn't sure why they had waited so long for them to realize that a kiss earlier on in their relationship would have stopped a lot of the fights they had found themselves in weeks ago. Something about the way their lips lock together and move in easy unity is utterly irresistible.

When they break apart he takes over his plate to drag into his own lap and starts to wolf it down. 

It seems like Roger has already finished his food. He snuggles up close to Crystal's side and hooks his arm around his bicep without disturbing his eating. 

He is ever pleasing to the eye, his spouse, with the long strands of his hair falling over his shoulders like golden waterfalls. His woven shirt is unbuttoned and revealing. He wears a beaded necklace that is Crystal's recognizable for anyone for its dangling emblem of swirling fire and smoke. That he is wearing the emblem of the Ember tribe fills Crystal with a near dizzying sense of pride. 

Crystal likes that Roger is small and fits so perfectly beside him. 

He hadn't expected he would ever feel this way, but their display of affection in front of the tribe solidifies his image of future chief head, as man and as devoted spouse. 

There is something regal about the shine of Roger's hair and the flawless quality of his skin. His aura is inviting and yet commanding. Crystal foresees them both running the tribe the way his parents used to, before his mother passed away. He thinks that he and Roger would make a good team, knowledgable, honest, practical and honourable. 

"What are you thinking about?" Roger asks after Crystal's eyes have gone distant and his food intake has slowed down. 

Juice of the meat dribbles down his chin and he wipes it off with his sleeve before he answers. 

"The future."

A small smile graces Roger's already pleasant face. "How far into the future?"

"Just a bit, really." He turns his head to nuzzle his nose between Roger's hair, parting it with the tip so he can whisper directly into his ear. "What I'm going to do to you tonight to secure the heir." 

"Don't pretend as though your intentions are anything but selfish." Roger says, smile growing wider and eager around the edges. 

"I never claimed to be a selfless creature, may the Goddess forgive me."

They share another kiss, this one more heated and intentional than the previous one. 

Crystal finishes his food in such a hurry that the others around the fire, who are supposed to be listening to the story of the first setting sun told by the great chief Crystal's father himself, give them knowing looks for their young insatiability. 

As soon as Crystal has finished up his food and handed his empty plate down the line of people to reach those gathering the utensils on cleaning duty, he takes Roger by the hand, no longer shy or hesitant and brings them to the tent. 

There is still wolf-whistling and stares, but they only seem to excite him these days. 

He thinks, almost animalistically, as he leads Roger through the entrance with a hand on his lower back, that it arouses him that they know what deed will be done between them and that Roger is truly his and that Crystal his too, in every sense of the word. 

That night they make love again. 

It's become a normal occurrence, but Crystal has yet to get used to the pleasure of sharing a bed with the same person every night. 

That every time they touch, Roger's body grows familiar under his fingertips, he presses on every nook of his figure, finds every sensitive spot and dips his tongue wherever it may fit, to chase and taste, until Roger's body becomes a little more his and his body is starting to belong to Roger all the same. 

This time they do it with Roger in Crystal's lap, bouncing up and down the length of his cock. 

It's quite the exercise that his delicate spouse is not used to. Sweat drips down his chest and his face glows red with both pleasure and extrusion. Roger's hair falls over his face and Crystal messily reaches up and brushes it aside to keep looking into his eyes.

Roger smiles, a wild pleasured grin at the gentle touch. 

He lowers himself down even faster. 

Crystal can see the muscles in his thighs twitch. At the same time, Crystal slams his hips upwards to hit Roger's pleasure spot each time their bodies meet to help him with at least a portion of the work. 

The only sound in the tent is that of slapping skin, the cot squeaking, tired moans and the beads of Crystal's necklace hitting Roger's chest on every bounce. Making a strangely arousing jingling noise. 

"Think we could do this every day?" Crystal jokes after thrusting up into Roger particularly hard to wrangle a louder gasp from his deliciously pink lips. 

Roger has both hands planted firmly onto Crystal's shoulders, holding on for dear life while he sinks down each time nearly losing balance or legs giving in. 

To be sure no dangerous accidents occur, Crystal has his hands clamped around his hips, leaving pink purple bruises in the prints of his fingers. Roger will feel his touch long after he has gone on the hunt tomorrow. 

"Shut up." Roger chuckles breathlessly. "Enjoy it while it lasts."

"No doubt I am." Crystal grunts, before learning up to steal an open-mouthed kiss from Roger. The movement makes his cock slide deeper into Roger, who moans loudly. 

☽ ☽ ☽

The long days make way for endless nights. 

Darkness consumes the camps and so does cold. A fire burns from dusk till dawn to keep the nearby tents warm and lure in predators to the enchanting lights to add to their rations. 

Children, young and fragile, are kept huddled under thick woollen clothing by their parents to get them through the harsh season. Most don't wander far from their site these days with little light to spare, although some try to salvage the rest of the berries still clinging to the frosting ends of bushes and catfish still flopping around the riverside before it freezes with the cold. 

Winter has officially sat in and instead of going on hunts every day, Crystal finds himself following his father around, to learn more about managing the tribe during challenging times and to curate all the tedious bits of knowledge and duties that come with the task of leadership. 

This does mean that he gets to sleep in a little longer than he did during the other seasons, when the animals aren't south to escape the murderous cold. 

This was supposed to be the period he would get to spend more quality time with Roger, but as of late, Roger has fallen ill with a strange sickness that has left him weak with fizzy spells and drained from energy. He sleeps in a lot more than Crystal can get away with-- even in the cold season. Therefore he gets to see little of spouse, significantly less than he'd yearned for.

It is a week in when wakes up with the first rays of sunshine and hears people bustling around outside, getting breakfast ready for the early risers, like him. 

Crystal begrudgingly detangles himself from Roger's embrace, who remains dead to the world. 

He dresses up as quietly as he can, which is a lot easier when there are no weapons involved in his routine, the furs are silent and so are the boots laced up over his calves to keep him warm. 

Despite his best efforts as a few moments pass and Roger subconsciously is starting to reach out for him and feels the cold spot that has replaced his spouse, he begins to stir. 

First with an annoyed furrow between his brows and then a huff. 

Crystal always muses that Roger would have made for a good hunter were he not so delicate and meant to bear his child. He always senses Crystal's eyes on him without having to open his own. 

"'S cold." 

"It's winter." He answers in a gruff voice. 

He had promised his father he would be supervising the fish smoking today and learn the process from the skilled fishermen. A large part of him wishes he could remain in his tent and look after his feeble spouse, but they each know that duty calls and that the God (or Goddess) has appointed Crystal future chief-head for reasons they cannot interfere with. 

He has to learn how to take over from his father one day and with a potential heir on the way soon, the transfer of power might not lay far into the future. 

There is no way for him to excuse brushing his duties off today and therefore he will not pretend it to be an option. 

"I think I might have a cold." 

Says Roger into his pillow, just as Crystal finishes braiding his hair out of his face to spare Roger the fishy smell when he returns to their bed tonight. 

It is bound to happen around the winter season that some catch the illnesses brought by the cool winds. 

They will just have to make sure Roger gets adequate hydration through hot beverages and remains warm. 

He has not developed a temperature yet, which means that the ailment is well under control for now. They just have to get his strength up before the illness could take a hold of him. 

"I'll send in Freddie." Crystal promises as he bends over their cot to kiss Roger good day. "He will look after you until I'm back."

Although miserable and a bit pale in the dim light of the tent, Roger is still beautiful when he forces his head to turn and face Crystal for another kiss. "Thank you."

Crystal forces himself to leave the tent before his knees will buckle and he won't be able to drag himself away from Roger's bedside. 

He's seen Roger vulnerable, but never in this particular way. 

Bad colds have taken people's lives in the past. Although he tries not to think of that. 

On his way to find Freddie, he shoots off an odd prayer to the Lord of the Sun to guard over his spouse. 

He finds him around the main fire, where a small party has gathered to have their share of freshly prepared sweet poridge, stirred over a fire to keep warm. 

Freddie is having his breakfast with candlemaker Jim, sitting suspiciously close, almost in the poor man's lap. 

Crystal approaches fast and steadily, not caring that Freddie sends him a glare when he pulls him away from Jim and other eavesdroppers. His complaints stop as soon as it is revealed that this concerns Roger's health and he leaves his breakfast with Jim to follows suit. 

"A cold you say?"

"He's been feeling ill, unable to keep food down and he's had some dizzy spells the last couple of days." Crystal explains the symptoms on their way to the tent. People who pass them by try to listen in on the conversation, therefore he lowers his voice and leans in close to Freddie as they set a fast pace. "He's very tired, you can tell... I find myself concerned for him in this condition. If this cold worsens should we call for the healer?" 

They reach the tent and Crystal pauses before he and Freddie part ways. 

Freddie has been less necessary in Roger’s daily routine. He’s a friend now, rather than a guardian. But he remains knowledgeable and versed on healing and general health, more than Crystal would. 

"I don't have much knowledge of this sort of thing." He gravely admits. "What kind of ailment are we facing here? I do not wish to overreact, or under-react for that matter."

He waits for Freddie to say something, but is surprised to see his previously concerned face has morphed into an unreadable expression. Put somewhere between smug and knowing, almost. 

Instantly he realizes he's missed something. 

He frowns and reaches for Freddie's arm before he can disappear into the tent without explaining what he had meant by the look.

"What?"

He has the gal to raise an eyebrow. "You really don't know." 

Crystal keeps still, in all aspects, face, body and voice, until the other man truly understands that he doesn't. 

"It's called morning sickness and it is nothing to sacrifice a lamb over." Freddie rolls his eyes with an air of fondness that does manage to settle Crystal's previously thumping heart. "Don't panic. We wait for a few days before we bring him to the healer."

"Is he going to be okay? Should I stay home?" He asks anyway, just because he thinks it is the right thing to ask.

"Go on with your duties. He'll be fine." Freddie says, waving him off with enough conviction that Crystal hesitantly lets go and turns away from their tiny home to go on and find the fish smoking tent down the rationing shed where he and the skilled workers will be put to hanging fish out for the rest of the day. 

The whole time he thinks about Roger, only reassured by the knowledge that Roger is in the hands of his capable friend, who knows when it is necessary to get help. 

While Crystal is not sure if Freddie has enough knowledge to diagnose Roger's illness, he knows that the truth will be revealed as time goes on. 

Indeed, Rogers morning sickness doesn't disappear. 

Every morning for well over a week he finds him miserable and green around the edges. It comes to a point where being inside in bed all day stops being an option and he is forced to participate in the community again while he is still weak and nauseous. 

Despite the significant impact of his deteriorating health, he seems reluctant to want to acknowledge what the illness might implicate. 

Crystal isn't even sure if Roger has considered the possibility of being pregnant already. 

One morning, Crystal means to bring the issue up, during breakfast, when Roger vomits in front of the entire tribe. 

It is the first time it happens in sight of others and the speculations go around faster than wildfire and moments later, before Roger has even straightened up where his head hung between his knees and gotten the chance to rinse his mouth with the cup of water Freddie has rushed to his side, he finds himself ushered into the healing tent by the tribe elders, with Crystal waiting outside.

Freddie had been allowed to go inside and hold his hand in Crystal's place.

Crystal never understood the tradition of keeping the fathers out of the healer's tent during pregnancy procedures, including the birth itself, but with half the tribe breathing down their back, it seemed hardly the place to complain. 

He's been stationed right outside the tent entrance ever since. 

Pacing up and down the length of the tent while anxiously strain his hunters' ears to hear what is being said inside. 

No matter how hard he tries, not a single whisper of a sound comes through the walls. 

Most of the first spectators had to go on with their task for the day, but the people passing him by are giving him pitying glances, most are filled with a fondness for his concern. 

Crystal just nods at them, miserably. He tries not to get agitated when the moments drag on and his shuffling sandaled feet have left dirt patches where he is pacing on the grass. 

Roger had not wanted to talk about the illness, about the 'morning sickness'. He never outright said it, but he avoided talking about the cause ever since Freddie had first diagnosed him. 

It could be that the prospect of parenting has scared him, which is to be understood. 

Crystal fears the responsibility of child-rearing and he is not the one carrying the child around in his belly for the next three seasons. 

Or Roger did not want to get his hopes up before the news was certain, because parenting never did seem something Roger particularly feared as much as marriage and sex itself. 

It is only when he does hear the first murmurs of voices and shuffling inside, when Roger comes dashing through the entrance alone and dashes straight into Crystal's arms with a gush of wind and exclaimed 'oof'.

Crystal secures his arms around Roger's waist, keeping him close and safe against his chest, but curiosity gnaws at him and he pushes. 

"And?" 

"Pregnant." Roger can't contain his grin as he says it. "I'm pregnant. We did it."

A surge of joy so pure that Crystal's hands are shaking and his tongue feels numb, goes through every inch of his body. 

A feeling of pure delight he had never expected to feel. 

"We did it." He gapes, completely breathless, as if it all clicked now, the plans of the God and Goddess revealed and laid out before his eyes, coming true, filling him with utter sense of purpose and accomplishment. 

"We— oh God. We have been blessed. I—."

Roger laughs at his dense stammering and silences him from having to utter more nonsense with a kiss. 

☽ ☽ ☽

The clan sends word to Roger's tribe about the coming child and the next evening a celebration is held in its name. 

By the moon tribes' tradition, it is too early to celebrate pregnancy and Roger seems uneasy to even spread the word now, but Crystal's people fancy it a tradition to honour an heir early, to honour the blessing of the God. 

"Superstition has it that the child will be unborn if not celebrated thoroughly." 

Crystal reminds Roger as he stands off to the side while his spouse gets prettied up by the elders for the custom celebration surrounding the pregnancy. 

Whilst early feasts are frowned down upon by Roger and his tribe, he had long given up fighting once the party was already put together at full speed. 

Elaborate drawings of red paste are painted directly onto Roger's skin, circling from the curves under his eyes all the way around the corners of his lips, down to his neck, shoulders and swirling around his arm to reach the end of his fingers. The blood lines curl around his features in symmetrical forms bringing the blues out of his eyes and the golden crown of hair. Said hair is pulled back from his face in ornate knots. 

Observing his spouse from a distance remains a treat he'd never fail to appreciate. 

There is nothing about Roger that is physically different yet. 

He is still slim and somewhat pale from his bouts of morning sickness troubling him, but in the orange threaded robe that hangs off his shoulders in a wide, free, fit, Crystal can imagine him round with his child, adoring a glow to his skin and a curve around the waist. 

"This is why spouses are usually not to attend the preparation rituals. It is very distracting." 

One of the elderly women who is kneeled in front of Roger, tucking a loose hair behind his ear, comments wryly. "Children these days do not care for traditions."

Remaining perfectly still as instructed, Roger casts him an impatient, although fond look from the corner of his eye. 

"He just doesn't want Roger out of his sight." Freddie, who is sitting behind Roger and rubbing his shoulders in support. "Make sure he and the baby are okay."

Crystal is glad that he is not standing in the glow of the candles and therefore they cannot see the redness of his face when Freddie exposes his true intentions. 

The prospect of getting to announce and bless their growing child officially to the clan is nothing short from magical in Crystal's opinion. He is prideful of his wonderful spouse and performing his duties as chiefs-son. Now all there is left to do is protect his family through the turmoil of the future and if that means hovering over Roger when he is so clearly in a delicate state, then so be it. 

Luckily Roger's bodypaint and makeup are finished soon. 

Crystal is ushered outside and made to wait amongst the crowd around the fire. 

People grab him by the arm or pat him on the back as he joins them, specifically the fellow huntsmen seem pleased by his accomplishments. 

Crystal tries not to grow too smug as the congratulations accumulate and everyone has gotten the chance to touch him in blessing. 

He too wears a matching orange robe that looks like it had been licked by the flames of the God. An honorable color amongst the grey and brown furs of those gathered around him. 

Tonight's fire is significantly larger than their usual. 

The flames blaze high into the sky and towards the moon, (although never touching her, much to Roger's pleasure). A large feast has been prepared, with roasted fish and winter vegetables. 

There are drums playing loud and thrilling the vibration in the air to life. Alcohol laced tea is carried around the campsite in a large sharable bowl, although Crystal declines and passes it on without taking a sip, knowing Roger won't have any with his nausea. 

His father appears beside him, holding his wooden staff carved with at the top the flames of the woodwork fire.

His expression is both calm and shimmering with pride in the shadow of the flares beside them. 

"I congratulate you, son." He pride booms over the rush of the fire and cackling of tribesmen around them. "May the God bless you with more offspring than he had granted your mother and myself."

"Maybe we are better off thanking the Goddess after all." Crystal attempts to joke, but it falls flat as his father narrows his eyes in disapproval. 

He'd always taken their religion more serious than him anyway. 

A signal from their tent, one of the elderly women waving her arm, alerts them and the rest of the camp of Roger's arrival. 

Somewhat of a hush falls over them all. Crystal digs his heels into the dirt and grass to keep himself from stumbling backwards, or worse, into the raging flames. He is looking directly into the fire which means that he cannot see Roger as he approaches and that the heat starts to seep through his skin and bring water forth from his body. 

Moments in he is already sweating like an otter. 

His father holds his staff up in the air with both hands, commanding the world to watch him as he too stares into the depths of the fire. 

The drums abruptly stop playing and everyone's gazes drift over to their leader. 

He remains still until he certainly has everyone hanging onto his lips, waiting for the speech. A true sense of delight floats over the camp like a thick fog that captures the heat close to their bodies. 

"Rejoice, everyone. For the Ember Clan now has a secured heir send by the God himself to lead us through the dark. Tonight we celebrate the successful coupling of my son, your future leader, and his spouse, Roger whose body will provide generous protection for the security of our future." 

Crystal tears his eyes away from the flames and cranes his neck in a failed attempt to look around the fire, where Roger will be waiting and listening to the prayer.

"May we all raise our hands to the God and thank Him for with what he has blessed us. May he bless the child and the parent carrying it safe in his body."

Methodologically the people put their arms up in the air and thrust their palms to the fire. Their eyes are shut and many are muttering silent private prayers to the God.

Crystal complies in the movement, but his head is empty when it comes to thinking of an adequate prayer. He had been begging the God, and secretly the Goddess, to protect Roger through this already straining process, every night before he went to sleep, in a desperate mantra, he had held Roger in his arms and whispered into his hair. 

_Let him be safe. Let him live._

He cannot think of what else to say, what else matters more than this. 

He shuts his eyes and complies with the physical aspect. Fingers twitching in the air. 

"May there be an early Spring for the tribe and enough food for the parents. May the God keep him safe through the next three troubling seasons. May my son have the healthy, capable child he deserves and will love, for you have gifted it. May there be mercy on their minds as they go through the turbulence of parenting. May there be peace as the child grows and proofs to be everything expected, needed and prophecised for our people."

The tips of his fingers are boiling in their proximity to the fire, consumed by heat.

His father pauses in his speech and Crystal reopens his eyes to find him staring at him. 

When their gazes meet, his father appears both proud and touched in the shadows of the ashes and smoke. His face and the corner of his mouth quirk up as he takes two steps away from Crystal to gesture with his staff at Roger. 

"Come together in unity before the God and thank him for matching your compatible bodies, as they were written in the flames."

His father puts a hand on Roger's shoulder and guides him around the fire to meet Crystal halfway. 

In the glow of the smoke and light, Roger becomes ethereal in appearance. 

His skin is pink in image, flushed both with joy and a sense of coyness. All the talk concerning his body should not already be getting to him, for it is only the beginning. 

Crystal extends his arms to him and Roger eagerly, freely, follows into his embrace with an audible sigh of relief. 

"May the Goddess forgive me." Roger whispers in the skin of Crystal's neck, truly only for him to hear. "She would understand. She would have, when she made our incompatible union successful?" 

"She understands, she approves of the fusion of our worlds and our beliefs." Crystal noses along Roger's hair. 

"Let's pray." Roger answers. 

When he straightens from the embrace his face paintings are unaffected by their touching. 

They come to stand beside each other with one hand linked and the other raised towards the fire (although Crystal suspects Roger's might be pointed upwards towards the moon). 

His father circles around them and the fire. Tribesmen touch him and his fur cloak, filling him with their fiery blessings on each round, which he then casts into Crystal and Roger by pressing the end of his staff into their back. 

This goes on for several rounds. The entire time Roger's gaze remains fixed on the floor where his bare feet have curled into the cold grass. He mutters prayers and stutters each time the chief touches him unexpectedly, but he never stops. His determination is ever stubborn and attractive. Crystal gives up on pretending that he is praying and ends up openly watching Roger chant.

It takes longer than it had to in Crystal's humble opinion, but eventually, they are asked to sit and enjoy the freshly prepared meal from the elderly, who had cast special herbs over the food to bless the child.

Roger leans up close against him as they too devour the contents on their wooden plates. To Crystal's joy, Roger is carving into his fish like a starving man. 

People who do not care to finish their food come forward to bid them good luck and blessings, kissing the back of Roger's wrist before circling the point with their thumb. It is where they feel the thumping rhythm of his heart. While each blessing to their child is one appreciated and cherished, the attention is starting to wear Roger down somewhat, along with the late hour and the heat of the fire closeby. 

Crystal waits patiently for Roger to finish eating in between dutifully meeting with every person that walks up to him. As soon as Roger hands his empty plate over to one of their admirers, Crystal grabs hum by the elbow and whisks him away to the riverside to have a breather. 

In the distance, they still hear the drums and the sound of laughter hanging as a veil over the camp.

Roger, although relieved to be gone from all the commotion, the singing and laughter, has his eyes cast upwards towards the moon longingly, even as his bare feet curl in the soft grains of sand that are cold this time of year. 

A melancholy expression falls over his cooling face. 

Crystal remains by his side. 

He keeps his silence, in case Roger is praying to Her, but it becomes clear that he is not when the stillness stretches on for longer than deemed a casual prayer. 

He curls an arm around Roger's waist to press him up against his side. 

Relived by the support, Roger allows his head to roll onto Crystal's shoulder as he keeps fixating on the white light the full moon casts onto the water.

Perhaps he should have waited longer with the celebration to meet Roger's religion on the middle ground. 

He should have resisted his father's insistence, for he cares little about religion and Roger will likely be the one to succeed in teaching their child the ways of the Moon tribe, before Crystal could even attempt to bother. 

"I hope I have not upset you, or overwhelmed you tonight." He puts in a delicate and careful tone. It is hard to imagine that they have been married for just a season now, he must remind himself in moments like this, that there are parts of Roger that he doesn't know nor understands. "I hope you aren't in debt with the Goddess now."

At his tipping chin, Roger huffs out a chuckle through his nose. The smile reaches his tired eyes as he leans more heavily onto Crystal's arm. 

"She brought you me, and then a child to secure peace between our tribes. She is merciful and I am forever in debt with her."

He says it in a manner that nothing can be done about it. Crystal decides to drop the subject at the dismissal he picks up from it. He looks out onto the river and sees nothing but water for miles ahead. A good rest for his sore eyes. 

"Can't believe I'm going to be a father." He murmurs after a pause. 

"You've got nothing to worry about for the three seasons, unlike myself."

A smirk plays at the corner of Crystal's lips, he peers down at Roger to ask, "Oh you mean I won't have to do everything you say, when you say it no matter how you say it until the baby is out?" 

Roger nudges his shoulder. "I've quite come to like you, _when_ you do as I say."

"Well, I'm glad to hear. We'll be spending an awful lot of time together now that winter is headed our way on full blast." Crystal mutters. "You don't mind, do you?" 

He shakes his head. "I'd get to know you some more. Father of my future child." 

There it is. The words are spoken in a breathless whisper, but they carry across the river and to the other lands. Crystal feels them wrap around his heart to cherish and strive for. 

Roger seems hardly aware of the impact of his whispers. 

"An autumn child, is also known as a child of sorrow." He contemplates a moment later. Still not truly breaking the whimsical spell. 

"Why does everything have to be so damn sombre in your culture?" 

"A child should bring you sorrow." Roger insists vividly. "They are fragile creatures and need constant care." With the hand that is not entangled with Crystal, he smooths a hand down his robe and lingers on his belly. His eyes peel away from the moon to look down at himself instead, before finally tipping up to peer at Crystal.

"You really should not tell anyone about the child before it starts to grow." 

"It started growing when I put it in you." Crystal retorts. 

"It starts growing after a season, sometimes longer. You can tell, when the belly starts to grow too." 

Their differences used to make their tones heavy with irritation and their eyes blank with a numb overload of emotions. 

These days they have learned to relax, look each other in the eye and smile lightly, instead. "You don't know what you are talking about." 

"That's what the Goddess teaches us." Roger's eyes lower somewhat to Crystal's lips, before licking his own. The mood shifts and so does Crystal to bring his face closer to Roger's. 

"What else does she teach?" 

"She teaches the ways of life, Chris. I take them very serious." 

"I know." Crystal says in the tone of a promise. Something perhaps unfit of their playful mood, but he wishes for Roger to know. "Our child shall learn the ways of the moon people and your beloved Goddess." 

A smile, so true and wide spreads across Roger's face. 

He pushes himself to the tips of his toes to close the distance between them for one joyful kiss. Their lips fit together in a perfect languid movement. 

Where Roger is soft, Crystal is raw and where he is hastened, Crystal puts a hand on his jaw to slow him down, tracing the red lines of the flaking face paint. 

Eventually, they are forced to pull away. Roger cannot balance on his toes for long periods of time and the feast has left them boy breathless. Their eyes meet and Roger's ocean blue eyes reflect the sparkling effects of the sun. Crystal could look at him forever, if he could. 

"She also preaches love, above all else. And I love you," He says, pink cheeked. "I think."

Laughter bubbles up Crystal's chest and he grins to close the distance between them again before he can chuckle out loud. 

"I love you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg! What do u think? Please leave a comment if you liked it.
> 
> Are u having any particular ideas for the following chapters concerning Roger’s pregnancy? Or their relationship? Or any special rituals? Please send me an ask on tumblr + we can become mutuals! @emmaandorlando

**Author's Note:**

> I hope u liked it! Please leave a comment if you do!


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